Abandon
by Devilzzz
Summary: After a very rude early Christmas greeting with Draco, Ginny finds herself meeting with him a year later, where he is alone and frightful on the snowy sidewalks of London. So she brings home a Christmas surprise to her family. Chapter Fourteen.
1. You needed someone to show you the way

__

Abandon

Ginny Weasley squeezed viciously into the line, peering over people's heads. It was quite difficult, as she had an armful of presents, wrapping paper and various different colored bows. Someone shoved her rudely. "Excuse _me_," said a cold voice behind her. "But you cut in."

Ginny turned her head and glared at the person before her. It was none other than eighteen year old Draco Malfoy. She recognized him easily. His gray eyes emitted a glowering presence, his white-blonde hair was slicked over his forehead, and he towered over her menacingly. His shirt outlined the fine lines of his chest. Ginny blushed, forcing herself to look up to his face.

"I - I really need to go home early," she protested. 

He smirked. "Don't tell me you have money, Weasley? What did you have to sell?" he sneered, looking over her suggestively.

"For once, Malfoy, be civil! You can have your God damn place," she snapped, pushing him away and going at the end of the line.

__

Devon's going to kill me, Ginny thought to herself. I am late! It took almost a half-hour to get her turn, and she swore to herself the next time she saw Draco Malfoy, he'd get a square punch in the face.

~*~

And yet, that was last Christmas. Now that it was two weeks before this very Christmas, she was right in front of him, gaping. Draco Malfoy had changed his appearance completely. His robes were now shabby and dirty, he was sitting cross-legged in the ground, his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking. It was so pathetic that Ginny couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The snow was obviously cold enough as he tugged his robes more tightly around himself, looking down at her shoes.

"What do you want?" he whispered, his teeth clattering.

"What happened to _you_?" she exclaimed, hesitating before walking one more step toward him. 

He looked up, snow glittering on his eyelashes, drips of water - or was it tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Don't know why you care," he sneered, his cheeks tinting red. "But my father's disowned me. So go away. I don't need you gloating over me, Weasley."

"I wasn't _gloating_!" she argued, red ringlets covering her eyes. She pushed them away with one careless hand, her arms folding stubbornly across her chest. "Do you...do you have someplace to go?"

"Don't mock me."

"I am not mocking you. I am asking if you have any place to go."

Reluctantly, his head poised forward. His eyes showed a flash of weakness, although his face was expressionless. "No."

"No?" she breathed. A wring in her chest twisted. "Well...if you want, I'll find you a place to stay."

"No thanks, Weasley, I don't want your pity right now."

"I am not pitying you, Malfoy! I am trying to help you! At least let me walk you to the Leaky Cauldron!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I - I have no money left...my father didn't give me any to spare," Draco notified her, blushing immensely.

"That's awful!" Ginny commented. Why was she feeling pity for this boy? The boy who was in Slytherin, the boy who had teased her, the boy who was always prejudiced against her family because they didn't have the amount of money he had? _Because you're a freaking Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley, _she thought to herself regretfully_. And that's what Gryffindors do._

After a few moments of silence, Ginny offered her hand. Draco looked at it questioningly.

"Do you want me to kiss your hand or something?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice, still gazing at the glove-covered hand that was sprinkled with snow. Finally, he took it, feeling warmth fill his fingertips as he rose, then pulled away quickly, and they both stared awkwardly at each other.

"Let's go," she said.

"Where?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Just come." Ginny knew exactly where she was taking him, but she was in such disbelief that she merely let him walk beside her as she led the path.

Their feet crunched on the snow at the same pattern, and she examined him. He was quite handsome, of course, he had always been. His gray eyes was the most startling feature. His thin lips were the only pink available, that shone out in his pale complexion. His figure was lean and slender, but he seemed to have a tight grip. He looked at her, and she looked away, blushing furiously. She had been caught. A few moments of silence and walking, Ginny felt a prickling at her neck, as if she was being watched. She looked beside her, but Draco was examining the scenery, so she tilted her head the other way and her breath caught in her throat.

__

Someone that looked suspiciously like Devon was running away from her. No, it's impossible, she said, shaking the thought off. Devon and I broke up months ago...he said he'd leave me alone! Frantically, she squinted her eyes. She could see the familiar cloak and scarf, but anybody could've bought that! It couldn't have been him...not after what he did to her...

She closed her eyes, the memories rushing through her mind. But she stopped thinking when she realized Draco had been tugging at her cloak for over minutes.

"What?" 

"Weasley, where the hell are we going?"

"Hold on." She searched her pockets and smiled as she observed the small muggle dictionary in her hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Hold onto this." Giving her a stony look, he obeyed, holding onto the backside as she held onto one of the pages.

In moments, the world around them began to spin, and Ginny felt her stomach lurch. She liked Apparating more than Portkeys, of course, but under certain circumstances, she felt Portkeys were much safer.

Ginny fell into the ground as Diagon Alley dissolved and crisply replaced with another scenery. Draco fell on top of her. Their eyes bore into each other and she felt oddly flustered as he pushed himself off of her, glancing at her coldly, then turning his gaze onto the place before him. It was a massive tall building, lopsided, with many rooms, roofs, and chimneys placed crazily into corners, bewitched to stay in balance.

He looked at Ginny expectantly. She cleared her throat nervously.

"Welcome to the Burrow."

~*~

Err... a little experiment. No need to review if you don't like it...


	2. I can take you away from here

__

Abandon

"What _were_ you thinking?" 

Ron Weasley, her freckled brother was standing in front of her, the air around him submitting parental, his arms folded over his chest, a questioning look on his face.

"He was cold, Ron!" Ginny protested, her eyes widening fearfully. "What if he starved to death or something?"

"Then we'd celebrate," Ron said logically as if it was the most obvious thing to do.

"He's not that evil. You only hate him because he was in Slytherin."

"No! Because he was awful to us!"

"Yes, well, you still thought he was evil before that!"

"No!"

"Yes!

"No," Ron said calmly in a child-like manner, his bottom lip quivering. "Stop it! Stop arguing with me..."

"Why?" 

"Because I am older!"

"So? Only one year!"

"That's _it_, I am telling Mum!"

"Ahem."

They both turned to the noise and saw Draco Malfoy standing there, his hair wet from his noticeable shower, in newly laundered clothes. He wore regular jeans, and a maroon sweater with a 'R' imprinted on it.

Ginny looked at him sheepishly, but as she observed it him more closely her expression quickly modified to astonishment. He just looked, well, there was no other word for it, _hot._ Of course, the sweater didn't add into the "hot" effect, as it reminded her of Ron...she shuddered inwardly.

Ron nudged her. She looked at him, annoyed.

"What?" she whispered.

"Stop drooling, Gin, it's disgusting."

"I was NOT - OW!" Ginny cried aloud as Ron kicked her. He eyed Draco stonily, nodding a fracture of his head.

"Hello," he said coldly.

"Hello, to you, Weasley," Draco retorted. Ginny could see that Draco was biting his tongue from harassing her brother. Finding this extremely amusing, she bit back her laughter.

"I'll show you to your room," Ginny offered. Draco turned to her, startled. Then he nodded, managing a hesitant smile.

"No you won't!" Ron exclaimed, pushing Ginny into the wall. "Oh, sorry, Gin," he added as she scowled fiercely at him. "I'll take him."

"But I can - oh, oh, oh," she trailed off as Ron pinched her arm painfully. Ron gritted his teeth.

"I'll take you Malfoy," he said. It looked as if he was conquering the world as he said this.

Draco backed away a bit. "Umm...it's alright, Weas- Gi- your sister can take me." He looked distinctively uncomfortable.

"I'll take you," Ron repeated, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at him. Finally, Draco relented and they walked a careful distance from each other down the hallways. Ginny looked after them, leaning over a bit, eyeing Draco's backside appreciatively through his loose pants.

Not a bad sight.

She squinted her eyes.

Nope, not a bad sight at all...

~*~

Ginny was cleaning her room. It was a messy view. Clothes had been thrown over the bed, the bed next to hers, which used to belong to Charlie, one of her many favorite brothers, was vacant. She looked at it, feeling a head rush come through, and sat down with a plop. She knew she wasn't remembering Charlie when she glanced at that bed - no, she remembered somebody else. A wistful smile filled her lips as she blinked. She could remember her birthday with him, he had sat on Charlie's bed, and she had sat on her own and listened carefully as he read out his summer assignments for muggle school.

But then...her face fell; Christmas had arrived and it had happened. It was a year ago, she scolded to herself. Get over it, Ginny. You needed him out of your life once and for all...he wasn't right, he was sick, Ginny, he was sick...he was addicted...

There was a soft thump on the door. Ginny glanced up.

"What do you want Ron? I told you already, I didn't steal your teddy bear, for the freaking last time!" 

There was silence at the other end of the door. Then, it opened, and Ginny suffered through shock as she saw it was Draco's head. He wore an amused smile on his face.

"Can I come in?"

"What for?" her voice was not harsh; but she quickly blushed at the rudeness of the question.

"I wanted to ask you something," Draco admitted.

"Alright." 

Draco took this as admission and came in. "Listen...I wanted to ask you an important question..."

"Yeah?" she squirmed and sat up on her bed, her arms around her knees, looking over at him.

"Your brother..."

"Yeah?"

"Is he ...queer?"

"Queer?" Ginny echoed. She choked back a laugh with a massive struggle, red creeping to her neck from the resistance. "Not that I know of...why?"

"Well, he wanted to take me to the room..." Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, no!" Ginny laughed, the red ringlets of her hair falling over her face. He looked at her, blinking. He had never heard that kind of laugh before, soft, swift, and easy. He felt the corners of his lips threaten to tug upwards.

"He just wanted to make you keep your distance away from me," she explained. "That's all. He's overprotective with the guy stuff ever since last Christmas. Don't worry, my brother completely hates you."

"You sure about that?" he said, with a reluctant tone.

"Positive," she said, nodding.

"Okay great." He turned around, twisting the knob. Then, he stopped, and looked back at her.

"Last Christmas?"

Ginny's bright smile faltered as if she had just realized what she had just blurted out. Her eyes shone with flashes of fury and avoidance.

"You should get dressed for dinner," she said, changing the subject abruptly. 

"Alright..." He still stood his ground, however. "You're okay, right?"

"Just go!" she found herself shrieking, standing up, folding her arms over her sweater, not meeting his eyes. "Please."

He obeyed. He left.

Her breath shook with grief, and she fell back onto the bed again, her eyes closed. She wished she didn't have to open them ever again.

~*~

That seemed like a good place to stop. I am really making progress with this fic and I am relieved, because the first chapter wasn't as good as I wanted it to be. I can't believe I got so many supporting reviews for the first chapter! This is why I decided to post it early. I really am hoping for reviews for this chapter :). So do me a favor and review, it'll make me post a lot more faster. Oh, yes. I didn't put a disclaimer, so I am going to put one right now for the whole story:

Disclaimer: The lovely J.K. Rowling owns all settings, including but not limited to the Burrow, Hogwarts, etc, and of course, the characters, animals, etc. I own the plot, the typed/written words, and my own little Devon. 

Leave a review, everyone!

Love,

~**Court**.


	3. So on the inside so busy out there

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Abandon

Dinner seemed to be a quiet affair. Ginny commented on her mother's food, and she replied with a polite, brisk 'thank you'. Other times, if Draco had not been there, she knew the whole family would be chattering about Qudditch, what Bill and Charlie were doing and whether any of them would arrive for Christmas this year. Draco sat next to her, unusually quiet as well, chewing his food in tiny little bites, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"So," Ginny finally spoke up to break the awkward silence. "How's the joke shop going?" she asked Fred and George, looking pointedly at them.

The identical twins exchanged looks before answering. "It's going fine..." Fred started. "We have enough money from it..." George finished.

"I should hope so," spoke up Mrs. Weasley with a stern voice. "After all, you did drop out of Hogwarts before graduation."

"Mum, don't get started with _him_ here," Fred reminded her, giving Draco a dirty look. Draco looked back at him blankly.

"Yeah, he's not going to...ouch!" George yelped, clutching his leg. "Ginny, why'd you kick me?"

Ginny gave him a sweet, innocent smile. "Sorry, George." 

Ron snorted. Ginny gave him a look and he cowered back into his seat.

"So, how is Harry getting here tomorrow?" Ron said quickly, changing the subject.

"Oh, your father and I are going to drop by...we owled Harry beforehand about the fireplace, though," Mrs. Weasley added, shaking her head.

Almost everyone laughed a bit, recalling when the twins and Ron had excitedly told them about what had happened in the summer after Harry's third year.

"Fireplace?" Draco leaned over and whispered to Ginny.

She looked at him, surprised that he had managed to say something. She nodded. "Yeah. Harry's uncle boarded up the fireplace while they were using the Floo network."

His mouth twitched a bit in humor.

"Of course, it was a total hazard, everyone was stuck and everything, can you imagine? Of course, dad only uses the Floo network in emergencies if the Ministry gives him special permission."

Draco's would-be smile completely vanished and he looked down, immensed in his food. _Ginny, you are so stupid_, she scolded herself. Of course, _the Ministry's going to remind him of his father_. Embarrassed, she tried to avoid Draco the rest of dinner, but it proved to be quite difficult, as she was sitting right next to him.

"Umm," she whispered. "Can you pass the - the salad, it's on your left, right there..."

"Pass what?" he said aloud. Everyone turned to him. 

"The salad," she hissed.

"What? Why are you whispering?" he asked.

"What do you need, Ginny dear?" Mrs. Weasley prompted.

"Oh, just the salad - oh, for God's sakes!" Ginny exclaimed, leaning over. Everyone watched her movements as she brushed her arm against Draco's chest, to grasp the bowl next to him on his left and firmly grip it until she got it in front of her. She was blushing, she knew, because everyone was still staring at her. Wishing she could vanish, she began to eat the salad methodically as she always did, the contents crunching in her mouth. Thankfully, when dinner was over, Ginny pulled Draco into a corner of the living room.

"You knew perfectly well what I was saying!" Ginny accused.

"I did?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course you did! Why did you do that?"

Draco's mouth modified into an official smirk. "Would you believe it if I wanted you to lean over so I could look down your blouse?"

"What?" she said increndously. 

"Good night," he merely responded, walking up the stairs and washing away from her view.

~*~

When Ginny Weasley woke up the next morning, she noticed two things. That her room was still in need of more cleaning, and that someone was sitting at the edge of the bed, watching her. Shrieking, she pulled the covers tightly around her before breathing a sigh of relief.

"_Hermione_!" she exclaimed.

Hermione grinned. "How're you doing, Ginny?"

"Fine, really," she gave Hermione a glare. "You scared the hell out of me, you know."

"Yeah, sorry about that..."

"What are you doing here, anyways? I thought you were coming two days after Harry came."

Hermione ignored this. "What is Malfoy doing here, at the Burrow? Please tell me this is a nightmare."

There it was. The question. Blunt, right there, in front of Ginny to answer.

"See, it's a long story..." Ginny started to say.

"I have plenty of time," retorted Hermione, crossing her legs, leaning forward eagerly.

~*~

"Wake up, you bastard!" 

This is how Draco Malfoy woke up, annoyed. Ron was holding a pillow in his hands, and had been smacking him with it for the last twenty minutes.

"What do you want? Don't you see I am trying to sleep?" He glared at him, pushing the strands of silver-blonde that fell on his eyes.

"Do I look I care? Mum wants us down for breakfast and meet Hermione's parents. Then we have to be there when they leave for Harry."

"So? I don't give a damn about Granger's parents or Potter."

"Well, you're going to. Now get up, and get downstairs!" Ron threw the pillow on the floor and exited his room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Oh, no, I've become a Weasley."

~*~

However, Draco's mood changed quickly when he headed downstairs. The kitchen was filled with a mass of people. Brunette Mrs. Granger, who looked nervous, with her arm around her small husband Fred, George, Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny. But what changed his mood the most was Ginny out of all of them. She looked...he gulped. Get a hold of yourself, he thought to himself wryly, but couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was wearing a small robe that was too small for her, the belt of it loose, her red curls fell down her shoulders like waterfalls, looking extremely pretty. He peered at her bare ankles in wonderment.

It was when he looked up that he met her eyes. She blushed and looked away, and he allowed himself to a smirk. The smirk quickly evaporated, however, when he realized everyone was staring at him.

"Umm...perhaps he hasn't heard us...Draco, dear?" Mrs. Weasley prodded with a motherly voice.

"Err, yes?" he asked, his cheeks tinting red. His eyes caught with Ginny's and she looked as if she was restraining a laugh.

"This is Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Mrs. Weasley introduced.

"Nice to meet you," he said politely in a dead-prone voice, nodding.

"Well," Mr. Weasley interrupted. "Molly, dear, we must get to Harry."

"Ah, yes, Arthur...are you sure you don't mind looking after the kids? I could stay and Arthur could go alone instead..." Mrs. Weasley offered.

"Oh, no, no, it'll be fine, no trouble at all," Mrs. Granger stammered.

"Can we go with you?" Fred and George asked in unison.

"Not today, boys, not today, I have to apparate and then use a portkey this time." Mr. Weasley looked extremely nervous; perhaps the thought of Fred and George's 'treats' to a certain Dudley Dursley a few years ago had taught him well.

"So? We can apparate properly..." George said.

"...Yeah," Fred finished.

"Right," Ginny spoke up, a snort in her voice. "Like the time in my eighteenth birthday last year you tried to apparate near the Burrow and ended up in the jungle with your pants off."

Fred turned red. "That wasn't my fault! Dad, tell her -"

Fortunately, Mr. Weasley had already apparated.

~*~

"I can't believe I have to spend Christmas with Potter," Draco said bitterly. Draco and Ginny were both sitting across from each other in the kitchen table, staring at each other awkwardly.

"Yes, well, he'll also be delighted," she said sarcastically. 

"Humph," he murmured, examining his fingernails. 

"You know, only girls do that," she said after a long pause.

"Girls do what?" 

"Look at their fingernails."

"I am not a girl!" he argued.

"You sure do scream like one, though."

"No I don't!"

"Alright, prove it," she challenged.

"Fine...I will," he said, a determined look washing over his face. Then, suddenly, without warning, he gave a piercing scream that echoed throughout the whole Burrow.

"My God!" Ginny jumped up, covering her ears. 

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON! GINNY ARE YOU ALRIGHT? GINNY!" Ron came into the kitchen, pulling on his boxers hastily, barechested, going over to Ginny and shaking her shoulders.

"You're alright, right, right? Why were you screaming?" Ron exclaimed. He had obviously come in the middle of a shower.

"That was me!" Draco said, folding his arms over his chest. Ron glanced at him. 

"You? But - it was a girl's scream!"

"It was NOT!"

"I can't believe this," Ron muttered. Without another word, he turned around and hurried upstairs.

Draco stood his ground, still frowning when a sound of chatter erupted from the living room. Ginny jumped a bit.

"Oh, that must be Harry," she said, going forward. Then, she turned around, her shoulder brushing against his.

"Told you so," she said, before disappearing into the living room.

~*~

Meanwhile, waiting for Harry to arrive, Hermione Granger walked outside the Burrow, looking around, observing her surroundings. It felt good to be reuinited with her friends once more, she hadn't seen them for over three months already. They were, of course, all tied up with their jobs, their hobbies, and other countless things. She breathed in and out, feeling serene, peaceful.

Walking around a bit, she gazed at the hens and other animals around the Burrow, smiling, breathing in the fresh air. As she walked, she saw that something was stuck at the heel of her shoe. Frowning, she kneeled over, taking it out.

It was a plain, white envelope, and had obviously been planted in front of the Burrow. Why not an owl? she thought to herself. Must be from a muggle, she thought logically.

She looked at the outside of it and the envelope dropped from her hands in shock, in midair, waving back and forth before falling into the ground gracefully.

Widening her eyes, shaking, she backed away and took off in a run.

The beaming sunlight made the neat, cursive print writing in front of the envelope luminous.

__

To Ginny.

From Devon.

~*~

I am sorry about the beginning of this chapter, I know it was sort of boring. But I can't let Ginny and Draco kiss yet, I want it to come slowly.

I am also sorry I've been a bit thin on the details of Draco and his family stuff, and I am sorry for the humor, since this story is supposed to be angst...but don't worry, the angst will come. Thanks for the reviews, remember to leave another one.

Love,

~Court.


	4. If you want to

__

Abandon

The next morning, Ginny Weasley awoke, stretching her arms and legs and yawning, kicking clothes off the edge of her bed. She heard Hermione turn slightly in her sleep, and looked over. Hermione's eyes were tightly closed as she turned and tossed in Charlie's room. Silently brushing herself off the bed, she walked softly toward the bed, peering over at Hermione.

"No," Hermione was moaning. "No, please, not again, we can't handle it..."

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows, walking away from her, back against the door, her hand slowly turning the knob so Hermione would not awake.

"_Please_," Hermione murmured, her legs kicking her covers off, thumping her body sideways. "Please, no..."

As the redheaded girl had many experiences with nightmares, she firmly believed she could not wake Hermione up, as a result that Hermione would see her and scream, and it would wake up the whole Burrow. Perhaps if it was somewhere else, but not here. On only impulse did Ginny step out of her own room, closing it as tenderly as possible, and began walking toward Ron's room.

With her ear to the door, she heard no chattering, which meant they weren't awake yet. Twisting the knob, she entered, and smiled wistfully. Three beds were cramped in the small space. The first bed consisted of a sleeping Draco, shirtless, covers thankfully over his legs. The second bed contained Harry, who was sleeping in the utmost unusual way; head facedown on pillow, his legs spread out; Ron was sleeping on the bed next to him, clutching a new teddy bear, muttering under his breath.

At first, Ginny's conscience told her to leave the room. But her instinct told her to stay. Approaching Draco's bed, she sat on the edge of it, watching him sleep. It was a dull process, as he seemed to be a heavy sleeper that neither talked, sleepwalked, or had nightmares during his sleep. She observed his features. The similar way his face looked was uncanny; he had grown taller, more slim from the lack of food, she guessed, the outline of his fine, toned chest delighted her eyes. She looked away, looking down at the floor.

She was about to leave the room when someone gripped her arm tightly with her a firm grasp.

Gasping, Ginny turned her head and saw that Draco was awake, looking at her sleepily.

"What're you doing here?" he slurred a bit with the words, blinking.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'll...go."

"No," he said, hand still tightly on her wrist. "Stay."

"But...alright," Ginny agreed, and he let go of her, sinking back into his pillows, watching her quietly.

"What _are_ you doing here, anyways?" Draco finally asked, pushing away a strand of silver-blonde. 

"Hermione had a nightmare," Ginny explained. "I didn't want to wake her...so I just came here."

There was a very long silence before he answered, grinning. "You're weird, has anyone ever told you that?"

She allowed herself to reluctantly grin back. "Actually, it's one of my many gifts."

~*~

__

"What if he kills her, Hermione?" Ron whispered. Hermione clutched him tightly, blinded by tears. 

"What if he kills her and then..." he trailed off.

Hermione pulled away from him, startled. "He wouldn't! He may be insane, Ron, but he wouldn't kill the person he loved."

He gave her a stubborn glance. "He would if she didn't love him back."

A frown came over her face. "Well, then it's not a problem," she murmured. "She loves him, alright."

He looked slightly alarmed. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Positive...positive...positive..."

The words faded away as Hermione Granger flickered her eyes open. It was just a dream, she told herself, her heart racing against her chest. Just a dream, nothing to worry about. No need to yell out for your mother, or anything, she told herself in half mockery and half self-disgust.

And with that, she unintentionally fell asleep again.

Little did she know, there _was_ something to worry about...

~*~

"You _didn't_!"  


Draco chuckled lightly. "I did. I mean, of course, I thought I was going to get expelled right in my first year, who wouldn't, setting fire on Mrs. Norris? Instead, all I had to do was recover her by myself without magic, then have detention for two months, nearly."

"But - how did..." Ginny waved her head suggestively.

His face paled. "Father," he muttered bitterly. Ginny paused, feeling tense. Laying beside him on the bed had been comfortable, but she knew it was too good to be true. She tilted her head the other way, not looking at his eyes.

Draco gripped her shoulder and she looked his way so he could lean over. 

"Could you laugh?" he whispered.

"What?"

"You have a nice laugh," Draco said, sounding dazed. "I think you should laugh."

"Only if you give me something to laugh about," she said, cautiously aware that his palm was resting in the middle of her chest, and he was leaning over her.

"Alright," he muttered, leaning close to her earlobe. "Remember in fourth year, when I got turned into a ferret and I screamed like a girl?"

Ginny could barely control her laughter and he smiled in admiration of the beautiful sound.

"So you surrender?" she asked, quirking a cute smile. "You admit you have a girly scream?"

"No," he argued. "You would have a girly scream if _you_ got turned into a ferret."

"Dra- Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"I _am_ a girl."

"Precisely."

"What?"

"What?"

"You confuse me."

"You amuse me."

"Stop rhyming."

"I didn't know I was."

She grinned at him. He grinned back, but his grin faltered as he leaned closer.

"So..."

"So..." Ginny murmured back, closing her eyes. She could feel his breath fanning her face, his lips ready to come onto hers...

"Who's there?" said a wild voice. "Who's there?"

Ginny opened her eyes, and Draco mouthed the words, 'Your brother'.

"HEY, I AM ARMED!" Ron leaped up from the bed and defensively shoved the teddy bear in front of his chest. Ginny crawled off the bed, catching Draco's eyes and biting her lip from bursting out laughing.

With a little wave, she fled the small room, hoping nobody saw her.

~*~

"Good morning, Gin," Draco whispered at her in the kitchen. A small blush crept up to her cheeks as she looked at him, giving him a shy smile in retort.

"I am starving!" Ron's voice flooded their small 'moment'. "Ginny, is that Christmas cookies? Give me!"

"It's still hot, Ron," Ginny scolded, concealing the cookies. "I am going to bewitch them so they stay fresh until Christmas."

"But I want some now," he moaned in agony.

Draco hid a chuckle beneath his hand.

"Well, you're not going to get them!" Ginny replied snappishly, a glare at her brother. "Eat the breakfast that mom made you."

"I don't _want_ to!"

"Honestly, Weasley," Draco couldn't help but saying.

Before Ron could say a suitable comeback, Hermione and Harry entered, Fred and George behind them, excited looks over their faces.

"Oh no," Ginny found herself saying. "What have you two up to _now_?"

She was so motherly that Draco found a smile coming onto his face. Fred and George glanced at each other, mock shock expressions on their identical faces.

"Why, little sister, when have we ..." Fred started to say.

"...ever been up to something?" George finished innocently.

Harry, Ron, and Draco laughed a bit, but Hermione did not. She looked weary and tired, staring down at the surface of the table, a look of concentration over her face.

"Alright, alright," George announced. "I know it's hard to believe...but we _are_ up to something."

Ginny snorted. Harry and Ron's snorts followed afterwards. Draco merely looked at them blankly.

"We're going to move out," Fred prompted. "After Christmas we're planning to move out."

"_What_?" Ginny shrieked, almost dropping the pan that containted the cookies. "You're joking!"

"No, we're not," George said sternly. "We're both twenty-two and should be able to move out. We've been thinking about it for the past few months and we've decided. We have enough money, we have our own vault, and we'll start looking the day after Christmas."

"Mom is going to _kill you_," Ron interrupted. Ginny silently agreed, but was in too much disbelief to say anything else.

"Kill who?" Everyone turned, guiltily looking at Mrs. Weasley, who had just entered Mr. Weasley by his side.

"Hermione dear, would you wake your parents up?" Mr. Weasley said excitedly. "We can have breakfast, I wanted to ask your mother of the use of what do you call them - comp users?"

"Computers," Harry corrected automatically.

"Ah, yes, and the internet - something, I wanted to check out this website, f- fanfiction or something...Hermione?"

Hermione jerked her head upwards. "Yeah, sure, whatever," she muttered, exiting the room in a dreamy trance of some sort.

"Mom, we need to tell you something," Fred finally said.

"Oh no," Ginny put the cookies in a corner, and clutched Draco by the shoulde, looking at him nervously. "We should go...there's most likely going to be a breakdown."

He nodded, and they both walked out of the kitchen, and into the living room. Ginny turned her face at Draco's and blushed.

"Listen, I know this is short notice...but I was wondering if you wanted to go Christmas shopping with me today?"

He frowned. "Christmas shopping?"

"You don't have to buy us anything," she said quickly, her blush growing more and more auburn. "I meant - accompany me for some late night presents?"

"Sure," he said, shugging. "Alright."

"Great," she said, beaming at him. The silence was broken by Mrs. Weasley's suddenly outraged voice from the kitchen, "WHAT?"

~*~

"Boxers," Draco suggested.

Ginny shook her head, raising her eyebrows at him. "Of course not...Ron would have a heart-attack if his baby sister gave his best friend boxers."

"You could explain to Ron that you're nineteen and you're giving it to Potter for 'later'," Draco said, smirking.

She shoved him on the arm. "Yes, I am sure that would go very well. Come on, be serious."

A solemn look covered Draco's face as he proceeded to look thoughtful. "Hmm, condoms?"

"_Malfoy!_"

"But he'll never use them," Draco said logically as they walked beside each other, their steps in rhythm.

"Eurgh, remind me never to ask this kind of advice again," said Ginny said, shaking her head. He looked at her apologetically, and stopped walking.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, no," Draco groaned. "It's one of the snotty wizards from my father's dinner party...let's get out of here before he sees..."

"Draco, Malfoy," said a familiar, tentative voice right next to them. Ginny jumped, slowly turning around to face the boy.

"Have another whore, do you?" he looked at Ginny edgily and then his lips parted, only choking sounds coming out.

Ginny looked at him, feeling as if she was about to faint.

Because the boy from Draco's father's 'dinner party' knew Ginny as well.

Very, _very_ well.

It was Devon.

~*~

Heh, I got away with Mr. Weasley saying 'fanfiction'. Sorry about that...couldn't help myself. Sorry if it was a bit boring, but I left a cliffhanger, so have fun with that...

Review.


	5. I can save you

__

Abandon

Ginny Weasley had never felt like this before. Her stomach lurched painfully, her knees were shaking uncontrollably, her eyes blinking more than every millisecond, and her throat dry all at once. It was an incredibly distraught experience, of course, to see Devon in front of her. Devon, the boy she had met almost three years ago, when she was sixteen. He still looked the same; brown hair, twinkling blue eyes, but there was something different about him. Ginny could always remember him laughing, or his eyes sparkling with laughter, or smiling. This time, he wasn't smiling at all. There was a gleam in his eye that she did not like at all.

"Come on," someone whispered in her ear. She jumped, startled, and saw that it was Draco, clutching her shoulder, gripping it. A new sensation spread throughout her skin as he did this, and she moved away from him, gulping.

"Ginny," Devon said, her name moving out of his mouth sardonically. "Hello."

"Hi," she mumbled, an awful blush coming over her face. Draco nodded to Devon, then clutched Ginny by the arm. She froze, unmoving, still in disbelief, her gaze on Devon.

"Ginny, it's okay, it's me," Draco persuaded her, and before she knew it, she was being tugged away by him, not looking back at a boy she thought she had loved.

~*~

When Ginny and Draco entered the Burrow, what first met their eyes was the unusual sight before them. Boxes stacked high, several of them in disarray, scattered elsewhere. 

"What happened here?" Draco muttered.

The answer to his question became highly visible as the twins entered the room, chattering. Fred looked at Ginny and promptly dropped the box he was holding.

"Gods, Gin, what the hell happened to _you_?" He observed her quivering chin, her sorrowful eyes, and her shaking shoulders with a look of familarity flashing in his eyes.

"Nothing," she murmured, her cheeks turning bright red to the tips of her ears and her neckline.

"Yes, that's obvious, since you look perfectly happy," George said sarcastically, picking up the box that Fred had dropped. Draco's eyes vaguely captured the outline of clothes inside.

"Oh, she just met this bastard when we were shopping," Draco mentioned casually. "I think he knew her."

"I see," George said, slightly uncomfortable that Draco had spoken directly to him in a civil manner. "Who was it?" he asked, looking down at the box, making conversation.

"Oh, Devon something, I didn't really..." he trailed off at the scandilized look on George's face.

"No, George, don't," Ginny suddenly pleaded, folding her arms over her chest, shaking her head at him. George gave an audible gulp and exited the living room without saying a word. Fred followed, with a few tense steps.

"What's wrong with them? Do you know Devon personally...or something?" Draco said, hesitating on the last words of his sentence. He glanced at the expression on her face that clearly said 'I know him more than personally', and didn't answer verbally.

"I should take these bags up, I have to wrap them...oh, damn, I forgot Harry's present..." Ginny flinched, twirling her hair around her fingertip agressively. "I can't do_ anything right _today."  


Before Draco could retort, she picked up the bags on the floor and took the same route the twins had taken, and left him looking after her, bewildered.

~*~

__

"I want you to get out of my house! Right now!"

"You can't do this! I am the one that helped you get out of Azkaban in the first place, I am the one..."

"That was two years ago, Draco. This is now."

"Why are you doing this, father? I've always listened to you...why can't you even..."

"It doesn't damn well matter. You sit around doing nothing everyday, accomplishing nothing at all...don't you think you brought shame to the Malfoy name when you were first born? You couldn't even beat a mudblood on the exams! I want you out of this house now..."

"Where am I going to go?" he shouted. "Huh? Where? I don't have any money..."

"And who's fault is that, Draco?" His father's eyes glittered with fury. 

Draco gritted his teeth at the memory, burying his face in his hands, wringing his hair around his fingertips in frustration.

At that precise second, the door swung open, revealing a very drunk Harry Potter.

~*~

__

"You are very, very bad girl, you know that?"

She closed her eyes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. "Stop it."

"Don't speak back to me, you filthy whore. Did you try to get out? ANSWER ME!" he thundered, grasping her neck by his hand, twisting it, snapping it...

Ginny's mind couldn't continue the memory. She fell facedown on her bed, drenching her pillow, breathing in slow, careful, sharp breaths.

"Ginny?"

Ginny looked up and saw it was Hermione, who had just entered, a look of concern over her face.

"It's..." the redhead paused as more tears followed throughout her cheeks and into her shirt. "I wish he were dead," Ginny croaked, surprised at what she had just said, but echoed it clearly. "I wish he was dead."

Hermione bit her lip, avoiding her eyes. "Do you?"

"Don't you believe me?"

Hermione ignored this question. "Get some rest, Ginny, I'll help you wrap your presents tomorrow." And with that, Hermione walked to her own bed and settled in it, turning her back on the crying girl.

~*~

"God, Potter, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What am I doing here?" Harry looked around warily from his bed.

"You collapsed on the floor and I had to drag you in here."

"_What?_" Harry exclaimed, sitting up immediately. "What did you do, Malfoy?"

Draco's mouth curled into a smirk. "Would I ever do anything to _you_, Potter?" he said, blinking innocently at his nemesis.

"Yes...did you rape me?"

Draco snorted in disbelief.

"Yes, Potter, it's true, I made a whole lacerate scheme to get you into bed - I think you're still drunk."

"No, I am not," Harry argued, sitting up in bed, then toppling over to the floor. Draco rolled his eyes, glancing down at him.

"Yeah, I guess," he slurred.

"Why did you get drunk in the first place?"

"Huh? I don't remember..." Harry looked around, dazed.

"Hmmm...should I take advantage of your drunkenness?" Draco pondered aloud. Harry struggled to his feet, plopping down on the bed.

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, shrugging. 

Draco's smirk vanished and a serious look covered his face. "Are you serious?"

"Huh? What?" he looked around frantically.

"Damn, how much did you drink?"

"Not a lot..." Harry said, wriggling his toes.

"Right," he answered, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm.

"Yup."

"Alright...I'll ask you something."

"Sure, sure," he said, still examining his toes with admiration.

"Well actually it's not a real question - just...tell me everything you can about Devon Myers."

Harry didn't answer. He considered his toes for a bit longer before looking up and answering. 

"What do you want to know?"

~*~

Eugh, yeah, not a good chapter, but oh well, at least I enjoyed writing it :) The next chapter will have G/D don't worry.


	6. and all you wanted

__

Abandon

It was early mid-morning when Ginny leaped out of bed in wonderment of a thought that had just occurred to her. Draco had said Devon had been at the dinner party his father had been hosting - but Draco's father didn't associate with muggles; it didn't make any sense...

Unless...Ginny buried her face in her hands, red tendrils of her hair wavering over her hands. Unless he was a wizard...but that was crazy, impossible...Devon always showed her homework assignments from his school...

__

But of course, said a voice in the back of her mind logically. _You never told him **you** were a witch...and when he asked about your school, you took out some homework from elementary school, second grade, remember?_

Ginny had heard that tone of voice before...she could remember that same voice saying 'do you?' in that logical range.

__

I wish he were dead.

Do you?

It was Hermione's voice.

~*~

__

Seven more days till Christmas.

Draco Malfoy stood outside, his hands in his pockets, staring around as if he was seeing everything for the first time.

He couldn't believe he had just spent a whole week at the Burrow. Or that he had lasted a whole week. The only attractive thing he found in the Weasley clan was Ginny. The youngest, the only daughter, the one they protected the most. She was cute, not beautiful, of course, but cute in her own way. He found her hair the most intriguing. Red hair tumbling to her shoulders in wavy curls, light freckles spread out on her nose, cheeks blushing whenever he was near him; she smelled like a sweet fragrance of wine. 

__

God damnit, you're so screwed you're actually getting sappy over a Weasley, he scolded himself. 

"Malfoy?"

Draco turned around, and was surprised to see that it was Harry, clothed in regular jeans, a shirt that was a bit over-sized for him, a peculiar expression on his face.

"Listen...did I get drunk last night?" he asked.

Draco fought the extreme urge to smirk. "Yes."

"Yes? Are you sure?" Harry asked again, as if he was making sure it was not a joke Draco was playing on him.

"Well...unless you blurt out your innermost secrets and topple over just for the hell of it."

"Innermost secrets?" Harry repeated in horror.

Draco let himself smirk this time, pushing away a strand of silver-blonde from his face. "It's okay, Potter. Nothing to be ashamed of...I won't tell anybody you like-"

"I don't _like_ anyone," Harry retorted furiously, auburn crept to his cheeks.

"Oh, true," Draco said, nodding. "You _love_ her."

And without a word, Draco pushed past him and entered the damaged door of the Burrow, while Harry stood outside, his lips moving wordlessly.

~*~

"This is - um, very good dinner," Ron said conversationally, smiling at his mother.

His mother smiled back. "Thank you, Ron, dear."

Ginny almost snorted as she forked her food, frowning. She had no appetite to eat at all. She gave a sidelong glance to Draco, who was sitting beside her, doing the same. Except he did not touch the dinner at all. Instead, he had his hands placed near the plate, looking down at his glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Ginny continued to stare at him, smiling timidly without knowing it as she observed his angelic face. She had an instinct to reach out and...

"Err...what're you doing?" Draco widened his eyes as she touched his hair in a tender motion.

Ginny pulled her hand away, quickly blushing a bright shade of pink. "Sorry," she croaked, trying to ignore everyone's eyes poring into her.

"I don't think - I don't think I am hungry," she finally whispered, and carefully slid out of her chair and walked away from the dining room.

"What's with her?" Ron hissed to Harry, but Harry wasn't paying attention at all. He stared down at his now empty plate, looking at it dreamily.

"Err...Harry?" 

Harry's head snapped upwards. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Sure, yeah...um, I am not hungry either," he hurriedly said, and leaped up from his chair and practically ran out of the room.

"Me either," Draco and Hermione suddenly said at the same time, and left the room together, leaving the only people at the table Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and the confused looking Fred and George.

Mrs. Weasley was utmost confused and outraged. "Is there something wrong with the food? Tell me the truth."

~*~

Ginny's feet dangled from the bed, and she looked at them in concentration as a blur of colors began to befall before her eyes. There's nothing to be afraid of, she told herself cautiously. So, Devon is a wizard. And you're a witch. But you're not dangerous, are you? She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath that sharply echoed throughout the room.

But he was dangerous, she reminded herself, uncomfortable. He was very dangerous, and you had no idea he was...

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," greeted Ginny in the tiniest voice. The door swung open to reveal a puzzled and tired looking Draco Malfoy.

"What - what is it?" she asked, blushing a bright red.

"Nothing."

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know," he answered uneasily.

"Oh. So, want to sit down?" she invited.

"I don't know."

"Do you want to leave?"

"I don't know."

Ginny laughed, and his eyes lit up instantly at the sound, and he poised forward, and with slight hesitance, he sat beside her on the bed with a plop and began dreamily twirling one of her red strands in his thumb.

"What're you doing?" she asked, closing her eyes to the magnetic electricity that fell through her whole body as he did this.

"I am imitating you, isn't that obvious?" he asked, an uplift curling in his mouth.

"I didn't know what I was doing," she argued.

"Of course you didn't," Draco retorted, no expression in his voice.

"Look, I really didn't..." She trailed off in a strangled muffled sound as he leaned forward, and captured her lips with his. Her woeful eyes stretched wide, still opened as his kiss continued. It was a soft, insomnious kiss, something she had never experienced before. Gently he kissed her, one hand on her shoulder, moving his lips against hers in perfect rhythm. She gave a sigh as he forced her to tilt backwards, so that he could nip at the side of her mouth. His tongue tried to separate her mouth desperately, but she pulled away from him before he could, her lips brushing across his chin before parting away.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?" Ginny asked harshly, moving away from him in a safe distance.

"I was..." Draco seemed to be speechless; at a extreme loss for words. "I was kissing you, of course," he finally finished.

"But _why_?" Ginny challenged, her cheeks flushed with defeat, her lips bright pink from his touch.

"Why does there have to be a reason? Why can't I just kiss you because I want to? Because I am in the mood?" Draco shrugged carelessly. 

"In the _mood_?" she shrieked. "In the mood for _what_, exactly?" Ginny sat upright, her brown eyes boring into his. The intensity in the air hovered between them frantically, refusing to go away.

"Well..." He seemed to have no appropriate answer for this.

"Well what? Aren't you going to answer?"

  
"This was a bad idea, I am going to go," he notified her.

"Fine, then, go," she replied curtly, feeling dread fill her stomach. Her heart skipped as he stood up, and promptly left, closing the door behind him. Ginny stood up slowly, numb in disbelief and happiness of what had just happened, and a bit of disappointment as well. She pressed her forehead against the closed door, as if wishing it to open again.

~*~

__

What the hell was that!? Draco thought to himself as he fell back onto his bed. _Why the hell did you kiss her, you stupid, sexily handsome ...err...moronic dimwit..._

Because, another part of his mind insisted carefully. _Because she looked cute, and she looked...well, I felt sorry for her. After what happened with her with the Devon business and all._

That's no reason to kiss her, you idiotic bastard! he scolded himself, burying his face in his hands. _After everything that happened with your father, how can you just kiss a Weasley? Was it to make him mad? Because he can't really see you, you know..._

I don't know, I don't know, he kept telling himself. _Why did I do that? Why? Why? Why?_

"Why damn it?" he asked himself. "Why, why, why, why, why, why, why..."

"You know, Malfoy, the first sign of insanity is when you talk to yourself," said a coy, amused voice beside him. Draco lurched up from his bed, and looked around the bedroom in which contained three beds. And all of them was vacant - so who was talking?

"Ummm...who's there?" he asked, trying to drown out the fear in his voice. Draco had heard that voice before - but where?

"Don't tell me you're scared, Malfoy...not after everything your father said about what a strong-willed leader his son would be?" said the mocking voice.

"Who _is there_?" Draco repeated, spitting out each word through his gritted teeth. Before he knew what was happening, he felt something hard poke at his forehead, and a muttered incantation before he fell back into the bed with a hard plunge, hitting his head on sharply, his arms and legs intertwined in agony and pain. 

And all that was visible was the darkness that surrounded the back of his eyelids, before he saw a windswept flash of several colors.

~*~

There you go. The kiss. So review and you can get the seventh chapter as fast as you like :) .


	7. was somebody

__

Abandon

It was like this that Ginny found him later on, while she was walking upstairs with laundry, at a an urge to talk to him about the event that took place no more or less than an hour ago, and then erupting into a scream and everything escaping from the grasp of her hands. He lay facedown on the floor, half of his body rolled on the mattress, half of him on the floor. Rushing toward him, she leaned over, gently taking his lower body to the ground, and grazing his cheekbone and other features, relieved to see that his breath was still present; uneven, but present. 

"_Ennerverate_," Ginny whispered, tapping her wand on the tip of his nose.

He flickered his eyes open, looking puzzled. Rubbing his eyes, he said in a dreamy voice, "What's going on?"

"What's _going on_?" Ginny repeated, aghast. "What's going _on_? _What the hell happened to you_?"

"What do you mean?" he positioned the buttons appropriately on his shirt as he said this, as his clothes were distraught, wrinkled and crumbled every which way.

"You were on the floor! You were passed out or something..." she tried to explain, but found that she couldn't. Her heart was beating rapidly against her chest; fear that had once exploded within her was taking a slow progress in disappearing. What was wrong with her? Why had seeing him in such a terrible state make her feel as if she was dying herself?

"I don't know what happened," Draco replied in a feeble voice. "I just think someone attacked me."

"They couldn't have! We would've seen them," Ginny retorted automatically. Her brown eyes sank into his gray ones before he spoke.

"Just because you can't see someone...doesn't mean they're not there."

~*~

"Are you saying someone attacked you?" Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly. "But - wouldn't we have seen anyone that came into the Burrow?"

"I think he might have some kind of Invisibility cloak," Ginny notified her mother.

"Invisibility cloak?" Harry interrupted at once.

"Yeah, Potter," Draco drawled. "So?"

"Harry has an Invisibility cloak," Ron told him smugly, obviously annoyed as well.

"Yeah, and I couldn't find mine," Harry said, his lips parted.

"What?" Hermione asked, beside him. Harry blushed as everyone stared at him; or perhaps it was because Hermione's hand was on his shoulder, her face inches away from his, Ginny thought, amused. She rolled her eyes at herself. _Like Harry would ever like Hermione more than a friend..._

"Did you see anybody coming into you room?" Ginny asked, leaning forward.

"No," he replied thoughtfully. "But, I was taking a shower - maybe that's how they got it? But after a few moments I saw it was back again - I thought maybe I didn't lose it, maybe I thought I did...but maybe..." he trailed off.

Everyone looked distinctively uncomfortable.

Ron seemed to be on the verge of saying 'So what, it's just Malfoy,' when Ginny kicked him suddenly.

"Look, are you sure you lost it, Harry?" Hermione asked, hand still on his shoulder, observing him closely. Harry turned a bright red.

"Well, it wasn't there...but then a few minutes ago, it suddenly turned up."

"Well...then," Mrs. Weasley said tensely. "When Arthur comes home from work I'll tell him."

"What good will that do?" asked Ron, stubbornly, who looked abashed at the idea of having Malfoy safe and protected.

"Ron, please, you're giving me a headache," groaned Mrs. Weasley. "Have you all done your Christmas shopping?" she asked, changing the subject quickly.

"I still have some things left to buy," said Harry, still blushing. "I better go, then..."

"I'll go with you," Ginny offered, smiling. "I have one thing left to buy."

Draco, however, seemed to be fairly disgruntled at this statement. "I'll go with you guys," he said through gritted teeth.

"What?" Harry looked startled.

"But - you went with me already," said Ginny, looking confused.

"I'll go," Draco said, giving her a piercing glance.

~*~

"So, isn't this nice?" said Draco jovially, in between Ginny and Harry, making sure they kept a safe distance from each other. Harry mumbled something inaudible under his breath, which strangely sounded exactly like 'miserable bastard', but perhaps he was hearing wrong.

"Um, so I better go get that gift - will you two be okay, alone?" Ginny asked cautiously, eyeing them. Harry was looking at Draco with a loathing look on his face. Draco pretended he didn't notice or cared.

"Sure, Gin, you go ahead," Harry said, grinning at her. "Get me a nice gift, will you?"

She looked adorably flustered at being caught and hurried away, pushing past them and disappearing into the crowd. 

"What the hell was that?" Harry's tone of voice had suddenly changed abruptly, and he stood, glaring at Draco with utmost disgust.

"What was what?" He blinked innocently.

"Why did you want to go with us, Malfoy?"

"Well, I haven't gotten the Weasleys any gifts yet, and I thought I'd show my appreciation," lied Draco, smiling slyly at Harry.

"Yeah, I am sure that's it. You just didn't want me and Ginny to be alone, did you?"

"Why wouldn't I want that?"

"It's so obvious, Malfoy," Harry said grimly. "You're jealous."

"Jealous of Ginny? I am sorry to say this, Potter, but you're not my type."

"You know exactly what I meant!" 

"You don't have to be so hostile about it. Just be glad I haven't started on about _your_ little 'crush'..." Draco trailed off, giving him a knowing look.

His cheeks tinted with several different shades of pink. "It's _not_ a crush."

"Sorry, it's love, I forgot, how clumsy of me," Draco drawled lazily as he stood against the door of a nearby store.

"I am **_not_** in love!" Harry denied as he walked over to him, flushing amber and almost tripping over his feet in the process of saying this.

"Sure, Potter, sure..."

~*~

Draco looked around the several things at the store. The tiny shop was called 'Deja Vu', a misty, cynical name for it. It was covered in black and lavendar colored curtains of it's windows, with only one person inside it: the clerk. She was disjointedly dressed; with pink boots, black sweater, and a skirt that hunk high above her ankles, which imprinted the words: The Holidays. She had black hair up to her shoulders, with bangs that fashioned on top of her head, which were above her glittering blue eyes. Her creamy white skin stood out in the beaming sunlight through the only window that was open behind her.

"Hello," she whispered in a croaking voice. Draco widened his eyes, startled.

"Err...are you okay?" he asked timidly.

"I have a cold," she explained, her voice low and husky. "Welcome to Deja Vu. You're my first customer."

"First customer?" Draco exclaimed. "It says on the bottom of the shop that this was opened twelve years ago!"

"Yes, yes," she hurriedly replied. "My name is Mindy, I am here to assist you on having a lovely day here shopping."

"Err...okay," Draco retorted, shifting uncomfortably, wishing he had never entered in the first place.

"What're you shopping for today?" Mindy's voice was barely audible. "Looking at you, I'd guess...girlfriend?"

"No," he said quickly. "Not girlfriend...just a friend."

"Redhead?"

"How'd you know?" he asked, surprised.

"I have my ways," she said, smiling at him. "What's her name?"

"Ginny. Virginia. Whatever..." he trailed off.

"Ginny," repeated Mindy, nodding thoughtfully. "What a sweet name. Would you like a name-tag bracelet or necklace?"

"What?"

"It's a bracelet or necklace with her name glittering on it. All of the jewelery here is bewitched with little charms. I personally would reccomend the necklace. It's very, very beautiful..."

Draco shrugged. "Alright. But after this, could you err - reccomend another shop to me?" He hoped vaguely he was not offending her.

To his suprise, she laughed as she picked off something from one of the shelves, a wooden box. "I understand. You don't like this place, do you? I mostly sit around here every day, even Christmas, just waiting for customers. Of course, I couldn't believe that you had come in."

"You sit here? For Christmas?" Draco felt a sympathetic feeling arising. Where would he be now, if it wasn't for Ginny, after all? A forebidding feeling crossed him. He might be dead somewhere.

"Well, I don't have any other place to go...it gets lonely after a while," Mindy confided. "Here you go," she suddenly said, waving her wand with a swish agains the wooden box. Draco opened it, and widened his eyes. It was beautiful - Ginny would like this. It was a simple chain with many glimmering diamons attached to the length, and the locket was the most massive diamond of all - with neat, curly cursive read: _Ginny_.

He examined it from front to back, and saw another diamond in the back of the locket, which was making an odd mechanical noise. He shrugged this off, as he knew nothing about jewelery, and put it back in the box when his heart leaped in realization: he had no money.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned.

"What?" Mindy croaked, her voice reducing into squeaks now.

"I don't have any money," Draco notified her with regret. "I wish I did...I am sorry you went through all the trouble..."

"It's okay," Mindy said quickly. "You can have it for free. All I require is that you advertise my shop?"

"Oh, thanks but I can't, it's too..." Draco felt his inner-Slytherin kick in, however. "Well..._if you insist_."

Mindy smiled. 

"But really," he said, sighing. "How can I ever repay you besides advertising?"

Mindy shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she said dismissively.

Then, a devilish smile went through his face. "Hey, Mindy?"

"Yeah?" she looked up.

"I think I _can_ repay you back..."

~*~

Eeeek! What ever does Draco mean? Well, I'll tell you one thing - Jealous!Ginny and MemoriesFlashback!Ginny will be making a special appearance. And Christmas! Review!

~*~


	8. who cared

__

Abandon

Ginny Weasley looked around her surroundings, frowning immensely. She was stuck between two rather massive people, and was trying to peer over their overly-large heads. It was a difficult process; as someone had just pushed her from the back, where she toppled into someone else. Grumbling, she brushed herself as she let go of the person's arms.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Someone pushed me." She tried a smile, pushing wisps of her red hair into the back of her ears, then looked up. Her heart leaped. Her mind was numb. Her legs and arms were completely paralyzed and frozen. She blinked once more, her smile vanishing.

"Devon," she stuttered. Devon was in black robes, only his brown hair visible. His face was almost hidden by the beaming sunlight. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of her. His nose twitched.

"Hello, Ginny," he greeted with a sadistic smile. "How is our little princess doing today?" Devon reached up and touched her hair lightly. She cringed, wanting desperately to recoil, but couldn't. She wanted to scream for help; but she couldn't get her lips moving. He brushed his forehead against hers, and it was only too soon that she realized he had his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. "Stop," she whispered. "Or I'll scream."

He laughed. "You will scream, Ginny, I love when you scream."

"You _son of a bitch_," she murmured. "Let me go._ I swear to God I am going to scream_."

"Go ahead," Devon said, waving his hand dismissively. Ginny tried to release herself from him, but he had far too much of a tight grip.

"Someone help me!" she yelled. "Someone, please!" Ginny felt her knees buckle underneath her. Nobody even gave her a glance. The crowd around her seemed to be frozen. The air seemed to be, as well. Everyone's expressions were imprinted on their faces, not moving. They were all stone.

She looked back at Devon. "What..."

He smiled, and took his wand out of his robes. 

"No...stop, stop it," she said, struggling against him. He grabbed her wrists, twisting them painfully, a look of fury on his face.

"Stop moving you_ little bitch_! Don't you love me anymore, Ginny? Don't you love me anymore...?" he mocked her...she closed her eyes...wishing for the scene to wash away...wishing for her eyes to wake up to him gone...

And when she opened her eyes, he was.

~*~

"Who is _she_?" Ron asked, amazed and awestruck at the person before him. Mindy gave him a small wave, one finger twirling dreamily in her hair.

"This is Mindy," Draco introduced. "I've already asked your parents. They say she can spend Christmas with us."

Ron, however, was clearly not hearing a word he was saying. Instead, he grinned, dazed at Mindy, who looked fairly fearful of him.

"Hey, Ron, do you have any - who is this?" Ginny's voice turned from friendly to inspecting in one swift movement of her tone. She had her arms full of white sheets, and she was clearly not happy nor delighted to see a pretty girl standing beside Draco, twirling her hair floridly, with Ron gaping at her at an uncannily manner.

"Hi," Mindy spoke, her voice low and hoarse as she offered a hand. "I am Mindy. You must be Ginny."

Ginny bit her lip, arms still full of laundry, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "And?"

Mindy backed away several inches away from her, her face pale. "And...nothing, I guess," she mumbled.

She smiled at Mindy, blinking innocently. "So, are you the new house elf my mother hired?"

Ron's gaze slowly went from Mindy and fixated on Ginny. "Ginny!" he sputtered, his eyes wide.

"Draco, can I speak to you please?" Ginny asked sweetly, ignoring Ron, who was protesting wordlessly.

"Err...actually, I was going to show - OW HOLY MOTHER OF SHIT!" Draco cried, his hands around his injured foot, where Ginny had severely cracked him with hers.

She eyed him narrowly. He grumbled under his breath as he limped beside her.

~*~

"_What were you thinking_?" Ginny hollered in a shrill voice, all bed sheets on the floor of her bedroom. Her hair was waving back and forth as she talked, her hands on her hips, utmost fury unleashing upon her face.

"Ginny! It's not what you think," Draco stammered. "I met Mindy in Deja Vu..."

"Deja Vu?" she said, her voice lower, but still flowing with loathing. "_Is that a strip joint_?"

Draco fought down the laughter down his throat. "No, it's not."

"Then what is it?" she whispered, her arms now folded across her chest, red curls pouring over her face like a veil of auburn, her brown eyes glowering angrily.

"It's a shop."

"A shop?" she repeated. "Well, that's very specific, Draco," she said sarcastically.

"Look, I was just picking up a gift," he protested meekly. '_For you_,' he almost added, but pursed his lips.

"Look, it's none of my business anyways who you're dating," she retorted curtly. "But this is my house and..."

"She doesn't have anywhere to go, Gin," Draco answered. "I invited her over for Christmas."

"You _what_?" Ginny felt a forbidding chill go through her spine.

"Your parents met her - they absolutely love her, they said it's fine..." Draco stammered.

"Oh, really? Did they say she's the daughter they never had?" Her eyes flashed.

"Listen..."

"Just get out of my way, okay," she snapped bitterly. "Go with your little Mindy house-elf and leave me alone."

Draco started to argue, but then his lips moved in a prim, firm line. "Fine," he replied coldly, and walked out, not bothering to close the door behind him.

~*~

__

"What're you doing with him?" Devon asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Ginny. Ginny furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"I was just talking - he's from school, his name's Colin," she chided, glancing at him fearfully. "He's just my friend, Devon."

"I don't give a damn if he's your friend, Ginny!" Devon shouted. "Why was he touching you?"

"He was barely touching me!" she exclaimed. "He was just patting my shoulder - what the hell is with you? It's Christmas, let's just go home, I've got ..."

"Don't try to distract me..."

"Devon, let me go, let me go, you're hurting me! Stop it!"

Ginny pulled her legs up to her chin, her eyes tightly shut. She could feel the tears pouring, splashing over her cheeks. This always happened, the pang in her chest, the tears, the frustration whenever she thought of him. And to think, she had seen him right in front of her just a few hours ago - it seemed as if she couldn't comprehend the difference between fantasy and reality. When she was with Devon, she was always in a fantasy - convincing herself that he was right for her, that he really loved her, that his overprotective side only came out because he didn't want to see her get hurt. But she was wrong. He only wanted to be the one to hurt her, to take advantage of her, to own her..._she belonged to him_.

No matter how many times she told herself that she had forgotten him; no matter how many times she tried to cry it all out in one night; no matter how much she talked or dwelled on the memories, drowning herself into it, hoping it would go away if she did, she knew she belonged to him. She opened her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering intake of breath before she pulled off her sweater, looking down at the bare skin of her chest where her garment did not protect her.

There was a severe pain that reached her as she ran her fingers through her neckline, where the burning never stopped. It was a single, heart-shaped mark that lingered on her skin, where Devon had imprinted it with a knife. She thought if she hid it; or concealed it; it would go away.

__

She remembered the isolation he had put on her; the insomniac isolation he had covered her with in her prison...he would put marks on her, he would kiss her tears away and tell her that it was only him, and that she needn't be afraid...and there she sat sobbing, knowing that this was all because Devon was jealous - he thought of her as property. And yet Devon had cheated her several times - and she had pretended that those moments never existed...and yet those memories stuck in her mind...she was imprisoned by him, she was a trademark...a copyright...

But it never did. The mark never went away, and burned into her flesh like thousands of stinging flames licking at her neckline. She touched it, feeling dazed and dead-prone.

She belonged to him.

And she_ always _would.

~*~

Christmas came at late arrival, it seemed. The days blurred by without any melodrama except Fred and George's boxes being pushed around the Burrow, or Harry and Hermione helping make decorations on the tree, whereas they discovered a mistletoe, and Harry, blushing, had gave her a quick kiss on her forehead, or Mindy coming over the day before to help Mrs. Weasley with the dinner that they would all be eating tomorrow, and even let flustered Ron eat some of the gingerbread cookies, while Mr. Weasley owled Bill and Charlie several times to wish them a Merry Christmas, since they would not be able to make it back home this year. Ginny and Draco were the only ones that were not visible across the many encounters of decorations, caroling, presents and among other things. Ginny stayed in her room, either reading quietly to herself, or sleeping. Draco sat quietly, his eyes poring over the Weasleys and their guests. He suspected that his parents were having a much more expensive, divine Christmas served for them, but the Weasleys were having a cozy, comfortable Christmas, which he had never experienced before.

On Christmas morning, Draco Malfoy was woken up by Ron, who looked particularly disheveled at seeing Draco with only his shorts on.

"Wake up, you evil senile bastard," Ron snarled in an unfriendly tone. He had clearly not forgiven Draco yet for being a useless, evil spoiled brat at Hogwarts. "It's Christmas."

"_Really_?" drawled Draco sarcastically. "Because I thought the green and scarlet decorations was to make a castle for me, and the tree downstairs was a throne."

"Shut up, will you? You suck. Oy, Harry! It's Christmas, Harry, it's Christmas! Christmas! Remember? CHRISTMAS! CHRISTMAS! Get dressed!" Ron said, his voice changing abruptly from extremely annoyed to excited at one swift range.

Draco rolled his eyes, pulling the covers off of him, and started dressing.

~*~

Ginny Weasley woke up in a more serene, peaceful manner. The first thing she did was look outside; it _had_ started snowing, but only enough to fill an inch or two on the ground; but she opened the window, and felt stinging, cold air unleash itself onto her face. Shivering, she closed it shut.

The door opened, revealing a full-dressed Hermione, who had an old Gryffindor scarf around her neck. "Hey, Gin..."

"Good morning. Merry Christmas," Ginny greeted her, buttoning the top two buttons of her loose, lavendar-colored nightgown. 

"Listen, Mindy and your mother are still putting finishing touches on dinner - want to go outside?" Hermione's face was flushed with anticipation.

Ginny shrugged. "Alright....but isn't the snow a little thin to make snow angels?"

Hermione grinned slyly at her, her eyes twinkling. "Who says we're making snow angels? Come _on_! Get dressed!" 

~*~

After a rather enjoyable two-person snowball fight, Ginny and Hermione both crashed into the front door, laughing, both faces flushed from the cold wind, sported in mittens, long overcoats, and scarves.

"Ah, you girls are back." Mrs. Weasley said, smiling warmly at the two girls. "Mindy and I were just setting the table."

"I'll help," Hermione quickly offered, pulling her mittens off, as well as her coat.

"Ginny?" Mindy spoke in a barely audible voice, looking at the girl with a small smile. Mindy was dressed in a green skirt, green boots, and a matching sweater that glittered the words '_Merry Christmas from the Deja Vu_,' in silver embroidered letters, which Ginny highly suspected one of the few clothes she owned, as it was ripped in several corners and looked shriveled from many years of being worn.

Ginny hesitated, glancing at Mindy with an apprehensive look. The brunette was awfully pretty, and seemed sincere - _and_ Draco's silent denial that there was anything going in between them didn't seem like a lie. 

__

Why would you care, anyways? About her and Draco dating? said a small, suggestive voice at the back of her mind. Ginny squirmed, feeling unsettled. Why _should _she care either way? Mindy seemed sweet. And Ginny had no right to be jealous - she had no feelings for Draco...right? The closest they had ever gotten was that one, small, well, lovely kiss. But she could push that out of her way for now.

"I'll help too," Ginny said, smiling back, and tugging off her mittens.

~*~

"I really hope I get the broom I asked for last year," Ron said, excitement visible in his voice. Harry patted Ron's shoulder reassuringly.

Draco rolled his eyes - he was very annoyed by Ron and his childish antics.

"God damnit, Weasley," he found himself saying. "You're twenty - and you're asking for a frigging broom?"

Ron looked deeply insulted by this. "Shut up, bastard. This is a classified Firebolt 2000 we're talking about."

"Whatever. I have higher ones," Draco notified him lazily.

"Yeah?" Ron said in a challenging voice. "Not anymore, eh?", referring to Draco's slight problem of being disowned.

The silver-blonde stopped dead in his tracks. To Ron's surprise, Harry nudged him, giving him a 'look'.

"No, not anymore," Draco said as calmly as possible, and walked past them to the kitchen.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Harry hissed at Ron, who was cowering away, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

"What? He's Malfoy. He'll get over it," the redhead replied desperately. "Why do you care, anyway?" Ron flashed Harry a suspicious look.

Harry stood upright, trying to look dignified. "I _don't _care." But it seemed very clear that his green eyes were saying differently.

~*~

Dinner was the important occasion. Mrs. Weasley occupied herself in asking Mindy questions about the store she owned, Mr. Weasley talked energetically about his work to Fred and George, who were not paying attention, but talking in whispers about the great move that would occur the next morning, Harry and Hermione avoided each other at all costs; blushing to the tips of her ears. Ron stuffed his mouth with food as usual, and Draco and Ginny sat next to each other, each silent. Mrs. and Mr. Granger were talking in murmurs, at the end of the table.

"Draco was my first customer, you see...nobody really comes in. But I have fun - I usually close down the store during midnight and go out for long walks; I am just so glad to be here for Christmas, really, your place is wonderful - all those extra chimneys, really endearing, did you bewitch them?" Mindy was saying in a dreamy voice, her hair strewn over her face, grinning at Mrs. Weasley at admiration.

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Weasley replied faintly, although very pleased. 

"Yeah, and one time," Ron interrupted so that Mindy would look at him. "One time one of them was going to fall over, so I helped put it back," he announced proudly, his chest sticking out, as well as his full stomach.

"Really?" Mindy said politely, her eyebrows raised.

"Yes...and, and, one time, I helped Harry save the world," Ron said casually, obviously smitten with the older brunette.

Harry snorted with laughter; Hermione seemed to be pursing her lips. Ginny let herself laugh freely, knowing her laughter would affect a certain person - and Draco gave her a silent look of both appreciation and annoyance of his favorite sound being heard that bluntly stated 'you're doing this to torture me, aren't you?', in which she smiled sweetly and innocently back.

It was a few moments later that Ginny was sipping water that it promptly came out of her mouth in surprise. 

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"Umm..." Ginny mumbled. "Nothing, nothing...oh, my...nothing at all..." She felt Draco's fingers brush against hers from underneath the table and tucked it into his hand. A gasp caught in her throat. A tingling, electrifying sensation reached her, and she was speechless, not to mention shaken. He grasped her hand delicately, leading it past the soft surface of his jean-covered thigh and into the front of his pants...

She withdrew her hand sharply, while Draco's shoulders shook in silent laughter, and sat up, her chair making a loud smash as it slid backwards into the nearby wall.

"Ginny!" Ron had his mouth full with bits of turkey, but wiped his lips, looking alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I am...uh, sick," she said, excusing herself quickly. Everyone either looked after her or looked at the chair that she had left neglected.

"I'll go see if she's okay," said Draco coolly. Ignoring Harry and Ron's glares, he sat up gracefully from his seat, flashed Mindy a small smile, and followed after the ferocious redhead.

~*~

Ginny was in her room, her face, neck and shoulders bright red from embarrassment, huddled in the front of her bed, her eyes closed, refusing to look at him as he entered. Draco laughed.

"Oh, come on, it was _just _a joke - you distracted me with_ your _laugh," he reminded her.

__

"Oh come on, Ginny, it was just a joke...don't take it seriously..." Devon grazed her cheekbone lovingly, his eyes boring into her disbelieved ones.

"Just a joke?" Ginny repeated stonily, her eyes still closed. "Just a joke, is it?"

"Yes, it was," Draco answered, a bit annoyed at the way she was handling this. "Oh come on, Ginny, you're nineteen, do you have to take things _so_ seriously? Especially a little thing like -"

__

Prison. Rape. Blood. Knives. Damage. Suffocation. 

  
"-this?"

__

You belong to me. Don't you love me anymore, don't you, don't you, don't you, don't you...

"Alright," she replied. "Why don't you just kill me? Then you can call it a joke." She had opened her eyes - and Draco was shocked. The depths in her eyes were like pitiless holes; cold and harsh, uninviting, and it was very clear Draco would not be ever welcomed into her essence.

"What kind of sick thing is that to say?" he asked, when he had managed to speak.

She didn't answer. She sat up in a proper position, and stared at him blankly, as if focused on something that was not there at all.

"Oh come on," he drawled, unsatisfied at this movement. He sat next to her on the bed, keeping a safe two-inch distance. She grimaced, but didn't move, didn't meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he demanded.

"Don't give me orders, like a slave, Draco," Ginny said, her voice expressionless. Nevertheless, her eyes pondered into his. It was exactly like falling - Draco could feel his body floating out of reach, and he couldn't stop looking at her, not observing her, just seeing her, as if she had suddenly become a different person. This was a different person. A person that had never escaped, a person that had been hidden. This was pain.

And he felt intoxicated to pain. Going completely on impulse and his own lack of sanity, he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her forcefully against him. She stiffened, but he whispered a calm 'relax' to her before his lips brushed against hers. This was the second time they had kissed - and yet it felt different, new, refreshing. It felt like burning, drowning, and heaven all at the same time. Burning because his fingers touched her, and even through her clothing she could feel his touch stinging into her flesh and running through her veins. Drowning because she was feeling like she couldn't stop this, drowning in disbelief, in pleasure and in complete need, stop kissing him, because if she didn't, she would regret it. Because drowning was wanting to die - and she wanted to die into him. Heaven because it was wonderful. Excitement and fear clouded her intentions as she carefully touched his shoulders gently with her hands. His lips trailed away from hers, and she moaned at the loss, tipping her head back just a bit so his lips could trail upon her neck, and he explored her most sensitive areas with his soft, gentle lips. Their upper-bodies pressed against each other greedily, and his face drew away from her as they parted. 

The intensifying bliss was _gone_.

Several moments of silence followed this kiss. There was nothing left to say. They were both breathless.

There was an audible knock on the door. Draco jumped and toppled off the bed in a standing position, as if he had been pushed, and the door swung open, revealing Hermione.

"Hi, are you okay?" she asked Ginny, not caring to glance at Draco.

"Umm..." something like liquid rose in her throat, refusing to go away. She cautiously reached up and felt her swollen, pink lips before taking back her hand, nodding at Hermione.

"Well, your Mum wants both of you to come downstairs. To open presents. Both of you," she said, staring pointedly at Draco now, who's cheeks were tinted red.

"Okay," he only muttered, pushing past Hermione and exiting.

"I'll be downstairs soon," Ginny chided, trying to smile, but she felt as if this was all a dream, not real, and it would never be real, no matter how much she wanted it to be.

Hermione gave her an inspecting look before smiling back, and shutting the door quietly as she left. Ginny clutched her chest, gasping and shuddering at the same time, her hand going down her green turtleneck sweater until it touched the heart-shaped scar on her neck, and she gave a small whimper as she touched it, falling back on her bed, her whole body quivering with weakness.

~*~

Downstairs, everyone but Ginny was waiting, circling around the Christmas tree, meddling with extra decorations, fiddling with presents, tugging at their clothes self-cautiously, or preoccupying themselves with carols, songs and food (especially Ron, who had now stuffed leftovers straight into his mouth). Outside, fresh wind was blowing from the open peeks of the windows, and snow was blowing, making white havens of ice on the grounds around the Burrow. It seemed that everyone was enjoying this, except Draco, who was drowning in his thoughts about Ginny and exactly what his parents were doing this Christmas - they either had a dinner party, then had a small dinner of their own once everyone had left. 

"I wonder who this is from?" Hermione cooed, rocking a small box that imprinted 'Hermione Granger' across it excitedly.

"Just open it, will you, Granger?" Draco interrupted in a bored tone. 

She scowled at him furiously before unwrapping the package. "Oh, _Harry_!" she breathed, after reading the card and examining the present with awe, now looking at Harry, who blushed quickly.

"It's beautiful," she said, smiling as she took out a glittering necklace with the letters spelling out 'Hermione', and was bewitched to flash several different colors.

Draco looked around - everyone seemed to be concentrating on opening gifts - he felt strangely out of place among the redheads and brunettes that were Weasleys, Potters, and Grangers. He sat up, and backed away quietly from the pleasures of Christmas, and walked out of the room with ease, and looked back only once - nobody had noticed that he was gone. His chest pounded at this thought. He walked upstairs, his hand searching in something in the pocket of his green robes - he pulled out the box. He hadn't wrapped it, but he was sure that she would love it. As he walked upstairs, he knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" finally replied the quiet voice that was Ginny.

"It's me."

"What do you want?" she inquired.

"Can I come in?"

She seemed to hesitate before answering. "If you want to." He entered the room, seeing some discarded clothes scattered around it, and Ginny was facedown on the bed, her arms enveloping her face in a protective way.

"I wanted to give you your present."

She looked up, her face softening. "You bought me a present?"

He nodded, sure that his cheeks were tinted red. "Here." He put it on her bed, and waited patiently for her to open it. She reached for it, and opened it with silent anticipation. Her lips parted, as she picked up the necklace, grazing a finger through the enormous diamond that read her name.

"It's - pretty," she said softly, her eyes meeting his. He felt his lips stretch into a small smile.

"Thank you," Ginny told him, pulling the necklace on.

"I'll help," Draco offered, coming behind her. She stiffened slightly as his hands grazed her neck, but sat with her arms to the side. He pulled it around her, locking it in side and brought it to the front. He could feel his fingers stumble through something - several bumps, a wound...?

She pulled away from him, alarmed, with a look that said '_you weren't supposed to find out'_.

~*~

When Draco headed downstairs again, everyone was still opening gifts.

"Hermione, could you go check on Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley prodded sweetly.

"Sure," Hermione said, grinning at her as she sat up, brushing off dirt from her dress. As she passed by Draco, she gave him a searching look before she went upstairs.

"Oh, it's from Ginny!" Harry's voice said loudly.

Draco turned his head swiftly, something rising in his chest as Harry happily proceeded to open the gift.

~*~

Hermione stood in shock, reading the note she had found in Ginny's bed. Not in Ginny's handwriting...but in someone else's...

__

I have my princess.

~*~

Draco felt himself choking back a laugh as Harry pulled the gift out -

a pair of black boxers.

~*~

Tee-hee. The longest G/D chapter I've ever written, I think. Don't you guys complain! This took me a week to write!

Love,

-S.A.


	9. please can you tell me

__

Abandon

She was trapped once more. Trapped in an enclosed place where she could not see herself in the darkness; where her whole body was numb with cold, where the only thing she felt when she shifted was the hard surfaces. She was in a box. 

There were no holes, no leaks, no anything to slide out of - there was only space to isolate her, to drown her in suffocation.

And she knew, if nobody let her out of this box - then she would never breathe again.

~*~

When Hermione stumbled down the stairs, she didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that her feet were taking her somewhere, and that she was obeying her body to move, even though it was numb. Every bone seemed to be discharged. Her brown curls poured over her face as she limped into the living room, both hands on the sides of the doorway to keep her balance. Nobody noticed her at first, as everyone was too occupied with looking at presents. She didn't mind. She stood in the doorway for several minutes before she accomplished attention; "Hermione? What's wrong?" her mother's voice rang out in concern.

Harry jerked his head up at her, and quickly got to his feet, going toward her. She tried to move but her limbs wouldn't cooperate. Her feet were frozen and tingling, her legs felt broken. When he finally reached her, she kept her arms outstretched so that he caught her as she fell, her chin on his shoulder. "It's happening again," she murmured, her eyes closed.

"Hermione? What's going on?" Harry asked, pulling her back so he could face her. He looked alarmed.

"Where's Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke out.

"She's gone," Hermione said in a dead-prone voice, giving a small laugh under her breath. She didn't know what else to do. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably, her knees were threatening to buckle underneath her. "She's gone..." Harry grabbed her hands, looking at her clenched fists, and something white peeking out of one of them.

"Can I see?" he prompted. She let her lifeless hand unfurl, and let the note drop. Harry gave her a glance before leaning over and picking it up, his eyes pondering the words.

"What does it say?" asked Draco, who, to everyone's amazement, had gotten up, a look of shock and mixed worry among his face, his shoulders stiffening with the spare seconds that passed by in silence without any answer to his query.

Harry crumbled the note, shaking his head. "Nothing." His tone of voice was deranged; it was not real. False, executed into something that would never be reality.

"Tell us," Ron said, his bottom lip quivering, his eyes glowering with both concern and curiousity. Mindy stood beside him, caught in mid-smile, at a joke Ron had been telling her, looking at Harry strangely.

"He's taken her," Harry announced, his face growing expressionless now. A faint blush was tinging his neck, but it was more from anxiety and anger than embarrassment. Everyone stood in surprised silence.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked at each other, bewildered. Ron clenched his fists; Mindy stood, observing something that was not there; Harry and Hermione stood beside each other, not moving except for the faint quivers of their bodies. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley merely looked at Harry in disbelief whilst Fred and George stayed cross-legged on the carpet, not saying a word.

"Who?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke out. "Not - not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" her voice shook violently as she spoke, as if she had wanted this to be true, and not the person she really thought had taken Ginny.

Harry managed a bitter laugh. "No, of course not."

This was all they needed to know. Their fears had been confirmed.

Mindy stomped her foot several times. Everyone turned their eyes to her. She waved her arms, pointing at her mouth.

"She's trying to tell us something," Fred said, raising his eyebrows as Mindy's words were blocked by only croaking squeaks as her lips moved wordlessly.

"She can't...she must have upgraded her cold to the flu, or something. She can't speak," Draco told him snappishly.

"Give her a quill and parchment...now!" Hermione demanded. Harry soothingly caressed her shoulder before heading out of the room.

~*~

"Little princess."

__

He was mocking her.

"Little princess, where are you? Are you hiding again?" That cooing voice. 

__

Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it...

"There you are..., I thought I had lost you..." he slid open the door, looking at her with ease.

__

Is it snowing outside still...

He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her out. She gave a dry sob as he pushed her against him, his cold body against hers.

__

How many years has passed...

"There, there, there's nothing to worry about princess, Devon's here to take care of you...,you know that, don't you?" he murmured in her earlobe. 

I can feel the ice against me...

"Why aren't you answering princess? Why _aren't you _answering?" He bit her earlobe, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh. She gave a cry, almost feeling the blood traveling from it...she could feel blood trickling from her ear into her neck...she could almost see her turtleneck stain...

"I know, I know," she answered helplessly in defeat. He pushed her backwards into the wall, wringing her wrists painfully over her head.

"We won't need this..." Devon whispered, with a voice of sick satisfaction as he slipped the turtleneck over her head without any difficulty. She tried to fold her arms across her chest, to protect the only garment that supported her front region, but found that he had pressed her wrists above her head once more.

"I am going to enjoy this," he said, and her ears rang with his laughter as his harsh kisses began to linger into her skin, contaminating it, demolishing it, ruining it...

~*~

__

The necklace. I told you the necklaces in Deja Vu had little charms on them. The one I gave you has a tracking charm.

Harry read it aloud to Draco and the rest of the clan, giving his former nemises a hopeful look.

"Does she have it on?"

"You gave her a necklace?" Ron's disbelieving and cautious voice was now fully audible to it's hearing length.

"Yes, she has it on, and yes, Weasley, I did. Are you going to break my neck for giving your sister a present?" he said in a challenging voice.

Ron gave him a look that said 'if it weren't for this situation, I would break your neck' and stepped back into the shadow of the massive Christmas tree that was glittering with several ribbons, tiny decorations, lights, and balls.

"So how do we track her down?" Harry asked Mindy. Mindy mouthed the words 'in Deja Vu'.

"She must have a device ...so that was the thing in the back of the locket? A tracking device?" Draco suddenly said, turning to the brunette.

Mindy blushed, nodding.

"So she must have something that lets us know where Ginny is in the store, right?" Harry turned to Mindy.

She nodded in reply.

"I am getting my Invisibility cloak," Harry said.

"I am going with you," Draco called after him firmly.

"No you're not! I am going with him! She's _my_ sister!" Ron said sternly as Harry disappeared once again upstairs.

"If I didn't give her that gift, you wouldn't have a chance, you stupid bastard," Draco seethed.

"Now _boys_!" Mrs. Weasley protested.

Ron gave him a glare but said nothing. When Harry arrived once more into the living room, the look on his face was both pissed off and disdainful with regret.

"Someone stole my Invisibility Cloak."

~*~

The room was the size of a cubicle, titled 'People Information', with only a where a pretty blonde sat, pondering the contents of a thick book titled in German.

"How may I help you today?" The blonde's voice spoke out, her voice sweet and soft. Her book had now escaped from her grasp, and she now occupied herself in raising a suggestive eyebrow at Draco and Harry.

"What's your name?" Draco said, leaning over and giving his most charming smile.

She giggled and blushed automatically at his smile. "Testicle."

Harry choked beside Draco, and appeared to be laughing, as his shoulders were now silently shaking with blissful mirth.

"Err...what a nice name," Draco commented, even though his ribs were probably broken from the restraint of laughing uproariously on the floor. The blonde shrugged, obviously flattered.

"It's not bad," she whispered huskily at him. "Now how can I help you - young boys?" she smiled, winking at Harry, and stared at his scar pointedly.

Harry looked bored at this movement and said nothing. Of course, he had experienced this more than several times of his life.

"We want to look up a friend's address," Draco said and leaned over easily, smirking at her. "Perhaps you could help us out? Devon Myers, registered wizard, currently now twenty, I think he might live in a muggle neighborhood?"

Her eyes glittered as her mouth ran with an uplift. "I would love to help you out, but the Ministry has now apt higher security. Unless you have proof that you are family of his, I can't do that. Perhaps you could go to 'Missing Persons'?"

"We've tried that," Harry responded, then gradually stiffened. It wasn't a _complete _lie - he had told Mr. Weasley to go straight to Missing Persons as soon as possible while he and Draco tried to find Devon's address, but not for Devon, but to report Ginny.

"Perhaps -" Draco said silkily, desperately reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out what it contained. He planted it on the desk, where she looked down at it with a puzzled expression.

"Sir, you want to bribe me with leftover candy?" she asked, glancing at him with widened eyes.

Draco looked down at the candy, then blushed furiously. "Oh, I thought it was money," he mumbled, making a mental note to himself: he had no money.

Harry rolled his eyes, clearing his throat so he had the attention once more. "Perhaps we could offer you something besides money."

Her smile widened. "Really? Well _that'd_ be interesting!"

"What else would you want?" Harry grinned at her reluctantly.

"Well...perhaps..." she leaned over attractively, pulling both boys by their collars and whispering in between them as they choked on her ferocious grip..."A night out...with _both_ of you?"

"Okay, sure," Harry squeaked, and she quickly let go off his collar, but was still hanging onto Draco's. "We'll take you out."

"Great! I'll be right back...Devon Myers, you say. You can sit," she said with triumph as she scuddled off into another corner of her office, searching through stacked folders with a keen eye.

Draco dragged his partner into two seats which was refered to the waiting room, and glared at him.

"Potter, what have you done?!" he snarled.

"What do you mean? If it's going to help find Ginny, then we can take Testicle out," Harry said, and seemed to be stifling his laughter.

"She doesn't want a night out, Potter. What are you, a virgin?" he scoffed in disbelief. "She wants BOTH of us - do you get my meaning? BOTH of us, at the same time!"

"What?" he sputtered. "No way! She doesn't want a threesome!"

"Yes, she does!"

"That's ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed, even though he looked a bit more scared than doubtful now. "But...but..."

"My God, Potter, are you so naive?"

"I can't have sex with you!" Harry finally managed to say, a look of horror upon his face.

"No shit," Draco retorted. "Look what you've gotten us into!"

"Sorry," he said meekly. "Well, after we find Ginny, we can still move to Asia."

Draco groaned, banging his head backwards against the wall.

"What would be the ground rules for something like that, anyways?" Harry thought aloud.

Draco tilted his head. "Shut up, Potter," he grumbled, grinning cheekily at him.

~*~

Ginny knew it was snowing. It wasn't an instinct, or something that she hoped it would be; she could feel the snow's essence, even though the room where she was held had no windows. The room where she was held, and a room where she would never get out of again. It was a small bedroom, windowless, with a small bed without bed sheets or pillows, a bathroom with only a curtain to conceal it, and a dresser table that held a tray of food. She wrinkled her nose, huddled into a small ball into the corner. Her hair sprawled over her face. She could still remember yesterday afternoon, she could still feel his fingers digging into her flesh. There was nothing to escape this, this madness. 

She knew it was snowing outside. Whenever she closed her eyes, she rid of this dingy place and went to a new one, where the snowfalls melted into her nose, and someone wrapped their arms around her as she leaned back, and settled into the delicious warmth...

But that would never be real.

She couldn't do anything. She was weak. She had to surrender.

She belonged to him again.

~*~

"No way. I am not letting you go alone! She's my best friend's sister!" Harry protested.

"So? I want to go and help her," Draco notified him in a definite tone.

"I don't trust you one bit, Malfoy," Harry replied snappishly. 

"I don't care if you don't trust me - I want to be the one who saves her," retorted Draco egotistically.

"Either you don't go or you go with me, that's the deal," he said firmly, folding his arms over his chest with a stubborn look on his face.

Draco glanced at him, sulking before answering. "Fine."

Then, he reached into his robes and deposited something into Harry's hand. Draco grinned as Harry looked in awe at the various square-shaped packs of condoms.

"Merry Christmas," Draco said jovially.

~*~

Ginny took a sharp intake of breath when he left, the door closed behind him. She wanted to scream, to do something that would rattle the surfaces of this very place she was closed in. She wanted, no, needed to die. It would only bring sweet relief to her. She thrashed back and forth on the bed, feeling her legs numb and her shoulders scratched with his marks. The heart-shaped scar in between her neck and chest burned whenever he was near. She didn't know if it was a mental, physical or chemical reaction. All she knew was that she needed to die. Every hour, minute and second that passed by destroyed her virtues, her values, her morals, her life.

Every single second counted. Time was running out. Ginny found herself sobbing uncontrollably at times, breaking things. That very morning Devon had gotten furious with her because she had broken the china plates. She screamed that she wouldn't eat, that she would starve herself so she could die. He merely laughed and told her she was too much of a coward to do a noble thing like that. She was losing control. She became a robot, lifeless as he screwed her as much as he wanted to, lifeless as she walked and answered his questions, lifeless as she cried herself to sleep, mumbling, "Kill me God, please, God, kill me," inwardly, and waking up very much alive and regretting it.

She was crippled. Her pulse barely paced. Her heart barely continued it's rapid beats.

She sang songs under her breath to occupy her time. Sometimes she just sat still on her bed and stared intently at the ceiling, watching it blur into millions shades of white before her eyes before she fell into slumber once more. She didn't know what year it was, nor what month, and certainly not what day. She knew it was snowing; she could still feel it, the instinct of it.

And snow was what kept her alive. Pure, white snowflakes settling her on her nose, Draco picking her up and flinging her around joyfully, or her brothers teasing her heartedly, or Hermione and her having a nice girl talk inside, settling into armchairs beside the snow-freckled windows, sipping hot cocoa. She could imagine all these things in her mind; and vividly, they seemed to become real, these images. They could move in so many motions that she found herself thinking it was reality.

Snow kept her alive. It was pure, and flawless if left untouched.

And it was the purest thing she could think of.

Snow kept her alive...

But as December and January would soon disappear, so would the snow, the pure thing that Ginny managed to live for, even though her soul was constantly trembling.

And if the snow disappeared...then so would Ginny.

~*~

"Floo powder?" Harry wrinkled his nose, glaring at him doubtfully. Both boys were now observing the stingy walls of the Capital General, a massive storage room that held Floo Powder, order forms to Ollivander's Wands, handy Apparation booklets stacked in five hundred rows, instruction guides on other wizard transportation, books that studied the comparison of muggle and wizard transportation, and a clerk that looked at them menacingly every five seconds. "Don't you think the place where Devon lives would be protected from the Floo Network by now?"

"We've got to try," prompted the silver-blonde logically. "If it doesn't work, maybe we can get a Portkey made...I am not even sure where they make them, but I am sure if we go to the Ministry of Magic and report-"

"You sound like Hermione," Harry said in an amused tone.

Draco rolled his eyes. "This is no time for jokes, Potter. Next week, we're scheduled to go out with that blonde chick, we may have to stupify her as well. I cannot believe you got us into this situation in the first place."

Harry shot him a look that clearly said 'that's illegal'.

"Maybe...,maybe she doesn't want a threesome," Harry suggested, though his voice was meek and small. "Maybe..."

"No maybes. I think -" Draco's eyes left Harry's face and pondered to his shoulder.

"What are you look- ACK!" Harry jumped as an owl brushed against his head, dropping a letter squarely in the middle of his face. His companion laughed silently. The clerk cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing at them for the noise, even though nobody but them were occupied in the storage room.

"Thanks a lot," he shouted to the owl, who had already swooped out.

"Stop talking to an owl, Potter. Open the letter, will you."

It was a small piece of parchment with neat, bold imprinted letters. Draco leaned over, inspecting the words with both disgust and curiosity.

__

Dear Boys,

We hope you're okay. Molly wanted to send you pies, but I told her not until you give the word. I have notified the Ministry, but I have not given Devon's name. I have reason to suspect that he knows the Ministry will be out for him, and has already planned his attacks if they do find him. I only told the Ministry that Ginny is missing and if there is any way to locate her. They are working various charms right now, but they don't work yet. We're hoping one of the higher level ones will work. Devon, or whoever kidnapped her has set security around the location, it seems. Owl us if you need anything. Molly said not to get in trouble.

-Arthur 

P.S. Mindy has found the tracking device. However, all it tracks down is that the place Ginny is (Fortunately, we found that it was somewhere in London at least) has an alarm and a shield force around it. Please be careful boys, and remember to carry your wands protectively.

"Damn it," Draco cursed under his breath. shoving the parchment away and crumbling it into a small ball, and throwing it in the corner, which caused the clerk to give him a look of death for littering.

"Why do you care about Ginny so much anyways, Malfoy?" Harry asked him suspiciously, his arms folded over his chest.

"I - I-" he stammered, flushing bright red. "I do _not_ care about her."

"Oh, no?" Harry said innocently in mock-shock.

"I care - I care about the owl," Draco finally managed to say. "Obviously Mr. Weasley's an idiot, the owl left."

"You came with me on this," Harry reminded him, raising his eyebrows at him knowingly.

"I was _bored_," he insisted, biting his lip afterwards, then almost tripping over his feet, similar to Harry's expression whenever Draco mentioned _his_ 'secret love'.

"Sure, Malfoy, sure," Harry mimicked thoughtfully.

~*~

"I won't!" Ginny shrieked, holding her plate up like a weapon, protective of her. But it would never protect her. "I won't let you have your way with me again!"

Devon laughed as if she was little child that was confused and spoiled. "Little princess, you're not in charge here. Give that to Devon," he added, glancing at the plate. Ginny squirmed in disgust. He talked to her like a little child - like a baby that needed caring.

"I'll break it," she seethed the threat to gritted teeth.

"Do as you wish," Devon answered coolly. "That means more pain for you."

Ginny restrained the dry sob that was forming in her throat, and turned around hesitantly, setting the plate down.

"That's a good girl," he said silkily. "Now come here, and undress."

Ginny gulped, closing her eyes for several moments. It was time to be dead now.

He would touch her, hurt her, destroy her again.

It was time to be dead again. She turned around and began undressing, her eyes glazing over, not believing this was real, that nobody could be evil enough to make her suffer through such agonizing pain. It was not reality. Her clothes were peeled off in bundles on the floor, the only clothes that she had been wearing. Her Christmas clothes. It was unnerving to see them shriveled and wrinkled into the floor along with her undergarments.

Limp. She was limp as he carried her in his arms, and used the knife to cut the sides of each breast, rip each arm, shatter each and every part of her.

She was a doll to play with.

Limp.

Lifeless.

The snow would soon end. 

~*~

"God damnit, Potter, I am shivering my ass off here!" Draco complained, pulling his thin cloak tightly around himself. Harry exchanged a dirty look with him, brushing snowflakes off his hair. Both boys received extreme cool air to splash around them, snow covering their every move. They were numb from the fierce freezing.

"Isn't this the right way?" Harry asked, his teeth clattering slightly now.

"Well, maybe he's made it Unplottable...?" Draco suggested dazedly, blinking ice out of his eyes. "But that takes advanced magic, doesn't it?"

"You're scaring me Malfoy. Sounding like Hermione again," he informed, trying to observe the territory with his eyes.

Draco scowled at him, but his bare hands were beginning to feel like ice - and since he had no mittens, he grumbled. "Potter, why don't you go this way, and I'll go to the right?" he suggested.

Harry shot him a tense look. "You mean, separate?"

"Well, it's a plan, at least, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed reluctantly. "But how will we find each other again?"

"We should have some sort of visible or audible signal."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. A yell or something. 'Hey, Potter! Kiss my ass!'" Draco demonstrated keenly, his voice loud and sharp.

Harry looked at him stonily. "I don't think 'kiss my ass' would phrase your correct meaning."

"No, I suppose not," the silver-blonde agreed reluctantly. "But it's still coded."

"How do I know if I'll hear you?"

"Easy. Wand. Sonorus?" Draco asked, with an amused eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's separate. It'll be the best thing that happened all day."

Draco's teeth clattered. "That's the spirit."

~*~

Harry withdrew his earlier statement silently and very quickly when he drew apart from Draco. It was freezing, and without any warmth radiating from anywhere, he might as well have starved to death.

"Malfoy!" he shouted, trying to turn back, but the snow was heaving towards him, pushing him farther away. Find Ginny, was the only option that rushed through his mind at this frantic moment. His feet seeping into the many layers of white snow, he struggled to get through the almost-blizzard, his eyes blinded by the rushing snowflakes.

Why was it snowing so furiously now? It hadn't been snowing like this before...

__

It could be unplottable. He has extra security. A shield force.

Extra security. The two words echoed through his eardrums before he gasped in realization, and received a mouthful of snow in return.

__

Of course. A force of - 

"Malfoy!" he screamed. He fumbled for his wand, but couldn't find it anywhere. Feeling a rush of concern and worriment, he began to yell among the wind, shooting his fists in the air of mercy, "Kiss my ass! KISS MY ASS! GOD DAMNIT MALFOY, KISS MY ASS!"

~*~

It was a storm in which Draco had never seen before. On the way Apparating here, he had not seen London so snowy before. It was like a blizzard. He coughed halfhazardly, knowing he would have a fever when he came back. His heart jolted as he pushed his feet across the snow, his shoes shining. I wonder if Ginny's alright, crossed through his mind frequently. He ignored this. He didn't like her. He couldn't. He cared a bit, yes, he'd admit that reluctantly. After all, she had kindly taken him to the Burrow, convinced her parents to let him stay at least for Christmas. And if he found her - if he and Potter did find her and save her, who would get to go home with Ginny? Not him.

He felt ice in his eyes, a burst of cool air splashing into his face. Why was he bothering? He could just Apparate back - yes, that's what he'd do. He'd find some way to get into the manor. He searched for his wand - but it was gone. He furrowed his snow-freckled eyebrows in puzzlement. He had it just moments ago. Where had it vanished to?

__

Draco, Draco, help me, Ginny's voice was calling in his mind. He felt guilt rush over him. He'd find her. And he'd take her home safely.

And then it would be over. He felt his knees cripple underneath him. Get a grip, he scolded himself. It's just some Weasleys. And Ginny...- Ginny who was now vulnerable at the state of a sadistic rapist and possible murderer, Ginny who had transformed from her freckled appearance to a grown woman, who was rather pretty now. Who felt warm in his embrace, and was not such a bad kisser herself.

Don't get so sentimental...if you ever do find her, then it's gone. Those little looks, those little games, those tiny little kisses. They're gone. So screw a romance, just find her. It's the least you can do. He found himself on the knees now, shivering uncontrollably, pulling his many cloaks around him, his silver-blonde locks glittering with snow.

And then he heard it. A faint yell. A faint calling. He jerked his head upwards. It was not Potter's. It was a female shriek. A female calling for help.

"Ginny?" he yelled as loud as his sore throat would allow him to, observing the houses around him - he was blinded by the snow - and which house was it?

The call was heard again, with inaudible words. 

"Ginny?" Draco shouted the yelp as loud as you could. "WHERE ARE YOU? GINNY?"

There was a muffled response. He couldn't see through the windows, the snow was covering everything. And then. 

Silence.

Pure silence.

Serenity.

"Oh damn it," Draco cursed, feeling his chest well up with something indescribable. Pain. Regret. Except it was something else that was pounding against his chest. He couldn't define it.

He didn't want to.

He was too afraid that if he did, things would change. _He would change_. And he couldn't. But it was tearing him apart inside.

Draco found himself raising his head up skywards, his knees numb from the cold, "God, help me."

~*~

Her red hair fell over her face like strands of weed. She hadn't been able to brush it for over days now. Her arms were scathed with blood and cuts that stung through the night. She knew she had lost more than a few pounds. She hadn't been eating, after all. All she felt all day long was her stomach aching, her knees shaking, and her chapped lips, in which she constantly had to run her tongue over. But it made no difference. She didn't feel alive anymore. If it wasn't for the pounding of her heart in her eardrums, she would've never moved.

She was a puppet now, and Devon had the strings to control her. It was only the next morning that Ginny thought she would die from bliss instead of pain, for when Devon came in, he left the door open, and came toward her. If it had been just a few days ago, Ginny would've run out the door in a flash. But she was weak; and no match for him. But she found that with the door open like that, even if he was present, there was still hope.

"Hello, Little Princess," he greeted her with an air of joy. 

"Hello," she whispered, then looked up, surprised. "You're dressed."

He smiled, tugging at his collar. "I am going to be away for a little business trip."

Ginny's face fell. "And I am guessing you're not taking me with you?" 

Devon gave a small chuckle. "No, sorry to say. The Ministry's already after my ass, but there's no way they'll find me in this '_snowstorm_'." He grinned at her. "You're to stay here."

"But...what about..." Ginny gestured in the air with her hand, even though it was agonizing for her to do it.

"Yes, if you want to eat, that plate will refill itself automatically. So will the cup if you want water."

"Oh." 

"I'll be gone for about four days," Devon notified her.

"Oh." Ginny felt a bit of happiness well up inside of her. He wouldn't be able to touch her, or hurt her in four days. For Ginny, four days seemed like eternity. She restrained a timid smile that was urging to spread across her lips.

"But don't worry Little Princess," Devon told her, leaning over, grazing her cheekbone tenderly. "When I come back...we'll catch up." He gave her a small wink.

She gave an audible gulp as he kissed her on the lips. It was a gentle, prodding kiss. She felt no feeling coming from it, and was emotionless as he did this. When he broke away, he gave her a hesitant smile.

"I want you to be a good little girl. There's no way out of here, so don't waste your time trying."

Ginny found herself nodding obediently. She felt a thump in her stomach.

He said nothing else. Turning away from her, he took out his wand, and murmured an incantation in which Ginny could not hear. As he closed the door behind him, sparks flew. Ginny jumped up, trying the knob, her blanket in a bundle in the floor.

"It won't work," said a dead-prone voice behind her.

Ginny felt at that instant - that instant that she heard the familiar voice, that her heart would grow three times larger. She was aghast, fearful and hopeful all at the same time. Her chin trembling, her eyes filled with tears, she turned around, and she knew she would melt.

Draco Malfoy was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak off of him.

~*~

"_Did you see them_?" Hermione asked, crestfallen when Harry had arrived in front of the Burrow, shivering in the mass of cloaks and coats he was wearing. "When you came, we thought you had Ginny with you. Mrs. Weasley was crying so much - I feel so sorry for them."

"Yeah, I know," Harry responded curtly. "Now I've lost Malfoy too." Desperation and exhaustion rang audibly in his voice.

Hermione didn't respond. She merely pulled him closer to her with an arm of comfort, allowing his head to be put on her shoulder. They sat for several moments of silence.

"He gave me a Christmas present," Harry prompted in a soft voice, his hair tickling her chin.

"Really?" she asked in surprise. "What was it?"

Harry didn't retort - he merely closed his eyes and drowned into slumber right in her arms, a remembering, wistful smile still attached to his face.

~*~

Ginny recoiled in horror, grimacing several times. "D-d-raco?" she stammered, tilting her head.

He nodded. "Ginny."

"How - how..." she trailed off. "Is this - is this real?"

"Very," Draco answered, smiling. "I stole Devon's Invisibility Cloak..."

Ginny couldn't manage to find her voice to ask questions - because she didn't want any answers. She took a timid step toward him. He didn't back away. Walking toward him, her arms outstretched, she wrapped her arms around him. He froze in surprise, his arms rigid - but after a moment's hesitance, he returned the embrace, his lips tickling her neck.

She gave a soft sigh, rubbing her nose vigorously against his cloak, which was wet and drenched from melted snowflakes. She could smell snow on him, and a pleasant sensation ran through her spine. Her legs and arms were paralyzed, too numb to move. They refused to get rid of the clutch on him. He didn't protest. His chin now positioned on her shoulder, his eyes closed, he began to cradle her slowly in his arms.

"Thank you," Ginny muttered over and over again. "Thank you."

"I asked God - to help find you," he murmured inwardly.

"Good," she whispered in his earlobe, her lips lingering on the skin of it. They stood like this for many minutes - but it seemed like hours when he finally let her go.

~*~


	10. so that I can finally see

__

Abandon

"I brought some items back - I did a lot of strolling around the house, there's a lot of security. But I managed to bring some things," Draco notified her. Ginny watched silently as she sat cross-legged on the floor, waiting patiently. He reached into a small black bag she had not noticed before. It looked worn and ripped at the edges, but D.M. was imprinted in tiny letters at the front.

"Are those your initials?" Ginny prompted.

Draco shook his head. "No, it's that bastard's. Devon's."

"Oh." The redhead grew silent. Draco pulled several things out, such as a hairbrush, spare parchment, spare quills, spare cloaks, and various different bottles and vials with clear liquid in them.

"Healing potions," Draco explained, catching the curious look on Ginny's face.

"Ah," she responded. "Can I have that hairbrush?" 

He grinned at her, his eyes catching on her frizzy, un-brushed, and tangled hair. Ginny felt herself blush. "Please?" she added.

"I'll help," he told her.

"You don't have to..." Ginny started to say, but relented as Draco sat behind her, pulling her against him. Her head rested on his chest as he began to pull apart tangles, brushing them slowly. It was a difficult process, but she felt peaceful to be against him, smelling his familiar fragrance, feeling his light touch. He mumbled under his breath as he brushed her stubborn strands, and she grinned to herself.

"What day is it?" she suddenly asked, her eyes wide in realization.

"It's January fourth," Draco told her, biting his lip in sheer concentration as he pushed through her hair with his fingers instead.

"My God," she breathed, closing her eyes tightly before opening them once more. "It feels like years."

"Do you want me to heal your bruises after this?" Draco asked, his voice barely audible.

"Alright," Ginny retorted, feeling unease. "But you'll have to take my clothes off first - they're everywhere," she said, biting an extra strand of hair nervously.

"No problem," Draco said, and she could almost hear him grinning in anticipation.

And although it was sick and demented, Ginny couldn't help but laugh, which made his grin twist into a mutual smile. And it was more real than she had ever seen.

~*~

It was nearly midnight when Draco finished brushing her hair. He took his time. He admired her hair - it was auburn, cascading across her shoulders, like waterfalls of red curls, and soft to touch, and he felt as if he could brush it for the whole year. He liked to feel her warmth against him, liked to touch her cheekbones with his fingertips when he was pushing strands away from invading her face. There was nothing to do but wait. None of them knew what was going to happen, and he liked it to stay that way. She sat cross-legged, giving small sighs, telling him little stories about growing up in the Burrow, and even though his mind dazed off from the subject, he couldn't help but have the greatest ambition to make her laugh.

"So then, Ron got a new teddy bear, named it Eddie, and Mum gave Fred and George such a spanking about the spider thing that they didn't bother Eddie," Ginny finished with an air of melodrama as she twirled a piece of hair between her fingers, chewing on it heartily.

"You shouldn't do that," he warned her cautiously.

She withdrew her teeth sharply from the hair. "Why not?"

"It can become an addiction."

"So can other things," she murmured under her breath, but Draco had no idea what she meant.

"Are you hurting?" Draco asked her after a moment's pause.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you still hurt - from where - where he - touched - I mean, hurt you?" he sputtered, feeling his stomach drop as a look of comprehension came over Ginny's face.

"Yes," she retorted curtly. "Are you almost done with my hair?"

"Just about..." Draco bit his lip vigorously as she moved upright, keeping a safe distance from him now. With one last, smooth swerve across her hair, he set the brush down on the floor.

"Now do you want the healing potions?" 

She nodded slowly, her now flawless hair caressing her shoulders lightly as she did. 

Draco reached behind her, grasping two tiny bottles that smelled suspiciously like roses, and unscrewed their tops. Ginny watched him with narrowed eyes, her knees up to her chin, her green skirt swaying across her legs. As he put a drop of liquid into his finger, he gave out a large cry.

Ginny jumped slightly, her eyes widening in shock. "What is it?"

"Nothing - it just stings."

"Stings?" she repeated, her bottom lip quivering in horror. "No! I won't! I hate those kind of things!"

"Ginny," he protested in a parental tone. "I have to heal you. Now take your sweater off," he said with an air of persuasion.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, looking stubborn. "No._ It'll hurt_."

Draco blinked, trying hard not to notice how her bosom heaved when she put her arms under it. "Umm...right. If you don't do it, then I'll have to force you to."

"You will not," she said doubtfully. "You wouldn't dare."

"If it'll help you get better, yes I would. Now - last chance. Take your sweater off."

"No," she said, shaking her head from side to side.

"Alright, _you asked for it_!" And with that sentence fully announced, hovering in sound, he lightly pushed her to the floor, and leaned over, one hand on her chest to keep her from moving. She grimaced, shifting underneath him as he took the ends of her green sweater and pulled it off slowly over her head. She remained silent, content, watching him shyly, her cheeks bright red.

Don't look, don't look, he told himself. It was rather difficult not to look, but he managed. Taking his finger, he pressed it onto a visible, red bruise in her shoulder. She made a small moan of agony and flinched as he did. 

"Sorry," he told her carelessly. "Oh...God," he whispered, eyeing her bruises. Several of them were placed on her stomach, and running up and down her arms. She didn't say a word. She kept her eyes closely shut, as if afraid to look at him. It was a catastrophic

experience, observing her injured body. Even though he knew it was very wrong, Draco took pleasure in touching her softly, and watching the bruises disappear within seconds. It was when he was recovering her shoulder blade when he saw something shimmering from her neck.

He looked closely. It was a scar - but not just any scar. Although it was faint, it was heart-shaped and bright red, like blood. The outline of it seemed to be attached to her skin, and the inside of it was covered in blemishes. He touched the bumps of it, feeling magnetic attraction coming from it. Her eyes flickered open in terror.

"It's a birthmark," she blurted out anxiously.

He nodded. Even though he didn't believe her for one second.

~*~

"You okay?" he asked her, hoping his voice didn't clarify at how distraught she looked, pulling on her sweater once again, tugging at the hemline, the turtleneck part of it, folding down any crease she saw. Strands of red brushed against her nose. Draco leaned over, and pushed it away, his fingertip still on her cheekbone. Her skin was delicate, fragile. He could count the freckles sprinkled on top of her nose as it wrinkled.

Her breath wavered across his neck. "Draco..."

Their lips collided against each other in longing, in perfect rhythm. Her pulse quickened, as did his heartbeat. There was nothing more delicious than drowning into her smell while they were all alone, nothing more adequate than having her slowly wrap her arms around his waist, her hands intertwined at the end. He held on to her, half of his arms under her arms, his hands on her shoulders, lopsided. It made no difference what position. Her breath grew heavier as their lips parted for moments. They sat like this, wrapped around each other, their noses bumping, their foreheads planted firmly against one another, and their lips centimeters away. There was nothing more he wanted to than to give into the burning inside his chest, which was pleading for him to kiss her senseless in blissful peace, and then pull her down on the floor, and make the sweetest love to her fragrance.

But then she pulled away. His heart-wrenching spinning world came into vision again when she pulled away from his embrace. She turned over, and without a word, curled up on the floor, legs and arms secured around her, her eyes closed.

He felt anger, disappointment and embarrassment glowering inside of him. But then, it faded away as he watched her small, cute face. The expression on her face before she let go of their grasp was something he had only seen and experienced so many times in his life.

It was fear.

~*~

Draco watched her sleep. It was like nothing else he had ever done. Even when darkness filled the room, his eyes refused to leave her face - it was a face that made you want to look back. Her lips were warm-looking, inviting, her nose small, her eyelashes long, and her hair silky and smooth, over her cheeks. He ran his fingers through her mass of auburn hair, not sure if she felt it. How could have someone hurt her? She was so innocent, she had done nothing but exist. She sighed a bit in her sleep. All he wanted to do was cradle in his arms and leave her breathless. The hours passed by like seconds. Draco's eyes declined to droop. There was nothing else to do but wait. What would happen? How would they get out of here alive? Would they get out alive? These questions and many others rushed past his mind.

He grasped Ginny's upper arms. "Mmhph," she murmured, her eyes still closed. 

"Be quiet," he prompted her gently, pulling her by the waist and into his arms. He felt the serene poise distracting enough. She was against him, rubbing her eyes vigirously before she tilted her head toward him.

"Draco?" Ginny questioned softly. "What're you doing?"

He didn't answer. Clutching her chin with the tips of his fingers, he paused, examining her. "Can I?"

Her breath took a sharp intake. "Can you...what?" she trailed off, her eyes closing. Feeling massive disappointment that she had gone to sleep again, he continued to hold her, almost swearing he could see the tiniest bit of a smile on her face.

~*~

Insomnia. Like an impassive wave of tiring illusions. Every illuminated shadow on the walls made him jump. It was like being given The Kiss by a Dementor. He felt himself reliving memories he wished that would wash away.

He was five years old. He had discovered a book in his mother's library concerning muggles. He had became so engrossed with the words and their lifestyles that he didn't notice his father had entered, looking at him furiously with disgust, and yanked the book out of his hands. Draco cried softly as he watched his father rip the book into shreds. Then his father beckoned her mother into the library. He slapped her several times before she cowered into the floor, picking up the shreds one by one, and throwing them into the fireplace, tears pouring over her cheeks, because it had been given to her by her mother, who had died only three days ago. Draco was sent to his room without dinner, and had starved the whole night. He had a sudden suspicion that his mother had starved longer than that.

Then, his thirteenth birthday. The most purebred families and their children came to the manor on this festive occasion. He hated it. He spent the entire evening in his armchair, not eating, not responding to their foolish questions. He wasn't even allowed to cut his cake, like other happy families would. At the end of the party, Draco was sent to his father's study by a house-elf, and had been beaten lifeless for not acting properly. He remembered waking up thirteen years old, with a black eye, his body slumped in bed. His mother nor father seemed to have no recollection of this, and didn't question him when he didn't come downstairs.

It was like he never existed.

Then, his seventeenth birthday. The start of the war. He had to runaway. When he came back, he received news that Voldemort was gone, even though half of the wizarding population had been terrorized, injured or killed. When he came into the manor - his father did horrible things to him. Things that made him scream aloud whenever he thought of this.

"Draco?" a soft voice urged. Ginny Weasley had her back to him, but she was now half-risen at the sound of him.

He looked up, wiping his eyes hurriedly. "You're awake," he said dully.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently.

"I am fine," he snapped. "Go back to sleep."

Ginny grimaced at this, but sat up on the floor, leaning forward to him, and pulling him into an awkward hug. He stiffened as he always did, but she pushed strands of silver-blonde off his forehead, her eyes searching his. A small smile erupted into her mouth as she pulled away.

He did what he wanted to do for a long time. He went completely on impulse, and grabbed her shoulders harshly, pushing her into the floor, his legs planted on hers. She gave a small whimper of surprise, but he concealed the audible noise with his lips, his hands wandering under her sweater, feeling her soft, creamy stomach. She protested, her voice muffled, but he didn't stop. He didn't want to stop. His lips bruised hers, and he could feel the blood trickling out of her delicate mouth - he liked it. He liked the feeling of total control - he wanted her right now, he wanted to screw her, use her, the feeling of hunger rising into his flesh. Her lips still had the delicious warmth to provide him - he had no warmth inside of him, and he needed her inside. 

"Stop it," she murmured, as one of his hands began to maneuver her sweater off. "Stop...you don't know what you're doing! Draco! Stop it!"

"No!" Draco responded, his voice shaking violently. "_No! I don't want to stop_."

"Please...Draco, you're hurting me," Ginny whispered, her eyes welling with tears as his fingernails sunk deep into her wrists.

"I **_don't_** care."

__

I don't care. 

"Please, Lucius! You're hurting me!"

"I don't care. I don't care, I don't care..."

The shock was unlimited. Ginny could feel herself freeze, feeling her body go rigid, all blood rushing out of her body. His pale cheeks lost all color it had - and he stammered.

  
"I mean - oh God," he hissed, pushing himself off of her, his reaction wearing off him quickly. He felt guilt, dread and disgust all at the same time.

He couldn't look at Ginny the whole night. Turning over, he kept a safe distance from her, feeling his knees shake the whole time. His breathing grew heavier by every second.

And so did hers.

~*~

The next morning seemed to come too slowly for Draco. He was suddenly shaken awake by the sound of a soft whimper. Sitting upright, he turned his head - Ginny was rolling over and over on the floor, in the middle of what seemed to be a horrifying nightmare. Her wracking body was shaking, her face twitching.

"Ginny?" he hissed. "Ginny, are you..."

Ginny turned over, a look of agony embarked on her face, "Please...somebody..."

"Ginny!" Draco shouted loudly, grasping her shoulders and shaking them back and forth. Her eyes kept tightly shut. His heartbeat raced as he touched her eyelids gently, prodding them to move forward so that her brown eyes were now looking back at him.

"What're you doing?" she croaked, backing away from him, sliding her palms against the floor as she crawled backwards, recoiling.

"I was trying to wake you up," Draco insisted, biting his lip vigorously. "What is it?"

She had no answer. Her lips were pursed into a thin line. Her nose wrinkled, her expression vaguely terrified, and she had begun to chew a strand of hair that had brushed onto her face in that precise moment. The intensifying realization rushed through him before it landed like a thump in his chest. 

"You - think - no, please..." he told her in a pleading voice, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. "You were having a nightmare - I would never hurt you..." he trailed off, his adrenaline pacing increasingly back and forth, sweat trickling at the nape of his neck. He felt as if his insides were being bitten apart into shreds that landed quietly in the corner of his stomach. It was not a process he particularly enjoyed.

"You already did," Ginny answered curtly, staring at him with blank eyes, pushing her hair out of her mouth, now pulling her knees to her chin, her brown orbs piercing into him. 

He didn't dare look back.

~*~

Ginny Weasley could not explain the hurt that she had felt when he had tried to force himself onto her. It was like a sudden dread of fear that overcame her and washed out all other thoughts. The same night he had done that, it had taken hours to stop the tears. It was that raw, hatred that ran through her blood. It was realizing that maybe Draco wasn't who she thought he was. Perhaps he was just the boy that had ruefully snapped at her a year ago, or the one who always mocked her with that silly little crush back at school. Perhaps he was just like Devon, but worse, because he made her feel things that she had never felt before.

But then, again. He could be the other boy. The boy that was handsome, sly, cunning, and amusing. He could be the desperate boy that clung into himself only last night, crying, and not wanting anybody to hear. He could be the boy that she had found, starving, tired, and helpless like a small baby at the snowy sidewalks of London, his silver-blonde hair freckled with snow, his only clothes soaked with water from melted snowflakes.

He could be the boy that made her laugh.

He could be the boy that saved her. That saved her from Devon, and saved her from herself.

He could be the boy that she saved as well, but she didn't know how much it meant to him.

He could be the boy that thought he cared only about himself, but he cared the world for her.

He could also be the boy that pretended he didn't care but he really did.

He could be the boy that scared himself sometimes by the feelings he thought he never had.

He could be the boy...

a sudden stroke of affection swept over her chest - she was drowning in that tingling, chilling knowing sensation that broke bumps out on her bare skin...

Draco could also be the boy that she was in love with.

~*~

Draco Malfoy had never felt pain this intensifying before. Ginny made him feel like a reckless thing that needed to be put away in a quiet corner for many minutes. And this was exactly what he was doing, in the corner, huddled in himself, hugging himself, because nobody else would.

Constantly he snuck glances at the redhead, but she still had her back to him.

And it felt awful. Almost as awful as he tried to pack his bags, and his father had beaten him fiercely, telling him he didn't deserve any of the clothes on his back. 

Draco Malfoy had been abandoned by a father who had raised him - or at least, appeared to be raising him, for nearly twenty years. Yes, Draco had felt pain for being ridiculed and left on the streets. And yet - here was this girl. This pretty, but not glamorous girl, who was sympathized when he needed it, who protected him when he needed it, who he had really only known for a few weeks, since he didn't notice her much at Hogwarts. She was nice enough, funny, sweet, and had a laugh that sent him into a heart-wrenching spin. 

He had known his father his whole life.

And he had known this girl by the name of Ginny - really gotten to know her, for only a few days.

So how come he felt more worse about her? He buried his head in between his legs, keeping his eyes tightly closed. Beads of liquid managed to escape through the peaks of his eyelashes.

~*~

"Your hair looks messy again," Draco observed conversationally. Ginny didn't turn around. She sat in the similar position she was in only a few hours ago, with her legs raised to her chin, and her arms around her knees. She fixated her gaze on the wall instead, not making a movement. Draco felt his heartbeat grow fainter as his eyes pondered the state of her hair. He would give anything, anything, just to feel that hair between his fingers again, to run it through her - hell, he would give anything to kiss those lips again, and explore that delicious mouth, and sink into her powerful embrace. He felt bliss erupt inside of him whenever he thought of the little moments that they had. And now he wondered if he would ever have them again.

"Do you want me to brush it?" he said, at attempt to do something.

This time, to his sheer surprise, she raised her shoulders, and murmured an almost soft, barely inaudible, "If you want to."

Draco felt a small smile uplift the corners of his mouth. He stood up slowly, his limbs progressing at a low pace, and walked toward her, picking up the hairbrush from the floor, and sat down, his legs in front of him, at the sides of her waist, and pulled her gently against him. She didn't protest. She closed her eyes, her head at his bare neck, the feeling of her hair against his skin gave him a tingling sensation that electrified through his whole body. He started with tender strokes first, then pulled apart the tangles, occasionally twirling a strand in his finger. She gave a small sigh as his finger ran through her mass, her smile timid, and wistful, as if nothing could ever destroy it. 

I won't let anything else destroy it, he promised himself.

~*~

When he was finished with the meaningful progress of fondling her hair with admiration in his eyes, she turned around, sitting cross-legged across from him, feeling the ends of her, as if making sure he had not cut anything off, then gave him a small smile. "You're very good at that," she remarked teasingly, leaning back into the floor.

He blinked, not liking the way she was manipulating him, the way her chest heaved when her head fell back, her curls of auburn grazing her shoulders. She tugged at her turtleneck sweater, wrinkling her nose in the occasional way she always did. He gulped down the lump in his throat, trying to restrain the thoughts that were going through his mind at this moment. "Good at what?"

"Brushing. How do you do it so well, anyways?" Ginny questioned, frowning, her eyes now flashing with bitterness. "Don't tell me you have experience...?" she trailed off, the last words rolling off of her tongue with a warning tone.

He shook his head. "Not at all," he said hastily. "I like brushing your hair."

Ginny grinned in spite of herself. What are you doing? she asked herself, disapprovingly. You're just making him think about you like that so it'll make it easier for you. You know he's not capable of loving you back. Her throat went dry, but her impulse ran her adrenaline like blood running through her skin as she tugged her sweater off, as casually as possible, over her neck. His eyes widened in shock - and he quickly turned his head, his eyes deceptive with both puzzlement and yearning.

"What else do you like?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Draco could almost feel his saliva dripping at the tone of her voice. When had sweet, innocent frightful Ginny Weasley had gotten so forward?

"You're tired," Draco suddenly prompted, looking down at his lap, avoiding her eyes. "Perhaps you should go to sleep."

But Ginny didn't give up so easily. On her knees, she crawled over to him, her hands planted on each thigh. He could feel perspiration running in the nape of his neck as he took a sharp intake of his breath. Her lips gently prodded against his. He didn't refuse the invitation - occupying the blissful silence with sweetly taking in the tenderness of her lips, the heated flashes that his body went through to feel her supple breasts against his as she pressed forward into him, barely concealed by her undergarment.

Ginny was more relaxed then him; although his toned chest against his didn't improve anything. She tried to pull away from the kiss, but his hands were now tugging at the hem of her skirt, trying to get it down to her knees - she smelled him - drowned into the fragrance of sweat and chocolate, feeling every vibration, every reaction he had to her, all sensible conscience forgotten.

Perhaps it would've moved further into something that engaged into commitment.

Perhaps.

Until the door swung open, to reveal a transparent-pink-shirted, black-skirted and coy-looking Mindy.

~*~

"Mindy!" Ginny shrieked in mortification, recoiling, backing away into the floor. Draco stiffened, turning around.

"Put the sweater back on," she ordered, her voice cool and collected, sounding rather amused with the current situation.

"You - you got your voice back!" Draco suddenly prompted.

"Yes," she said, nodding ruthlessly. "Now let's get out of here."

"How did you open the door?" asked a flustered Ginny, whose hair was now messy curls that blocked her impeccable brown eyes. 

Mindy parted her lips but nothing came out - her eyes widened in horror, and her limbs seemed to discharge for a moment before she fell out of the open doorway and spread eagle-angled on the floor, her eyes still open, her mouth still gaping, but her breathing was hitched, and she looked lifeless.

And that's when they looked up.

And saw Devon Myers. A look of satisfaction crossed his face before his mouth moved into a hideous smirk. A knowing smirk. "Don't worry, I wouldn't kill her. Just petrified." He shrugged, pleased with himself. He was attired in fancy black robes that were emboirdered in silver lining, his brown hair fluttering over his eyelids. 

"How do we know you didn't kill her?" Ginny suddenly spat, her chin trembling beneath her words. Shock - distrust and horrification were going through her like a thousand knives stinging into her flesh and turning over and over again. She couldn't take this anymore. Her teeth began to nibble quietly at a strand of her hair to keep from falling to the floor.

Devon gave her a disgusted look. "I would never kill _her_."

"Why - why not?" she challenged, the strand falling from her mouth, now dissertated from her scalp. Her insides were quivering, and she knew the longer she talked, the longer she would keep from throwing up - she could almost taste the vomit lingering in her tongue, awaiting for it's escape to the floor...

His smirk faltered slightly, a visible, triumphal smile replacing it instead. With his eyebrows raised, he answered as curtly as possible, "Oh, didn't you know? She's my sister."

~*~


	11. where you go when you're gone

__

Abandon

The silence that filled the room was amazing. Nobody knew exactly what to respond to Devon. They looked blankly at him, as if prodding him further to say more. But he said nothing, the smile starting to fade away from the embrace of his face, his beatific features creasing as his eyes pondered the state of Ginny's sweater, which had miraculously ridden itself upwards her stomach. She noticed this, and frantically tugged the end of her sweater down, growing red in the face from embarrassment from being caught and shame.

His eyes emerged with anger as he saw Draco, whose shirt was unbuttoned, embellishing what had happened while he had been away.

"So," Devon started, the word like an eclipse over the room. "Little Princess is being treated like a queen, and she still isn't spoiled enough? Brat. _Whore_," he spat, clenching his fists in unmistakable fury that shook his shoulders silently. "**_Whore_**," he said again, in a more vicious tone, in a more louder range of his voice, his teeth gritted, grinding, while his saliva spread over the floor in droplets.

"Stop it," Ginny murmured, shaking her head from side to side. "No..."

"Don't you _dare_ call her that," Draco suddenly spoke out, his eyes narrowing as he stood up, his fists clenching as well. He seemed to be drawing blood out of his skin with his fingernails. "Don't you dare, you bastard."

Devon grimaced slightly at being spoken back to in such a violent manner, but seemed to refrain himself from showing emotion. He stepped forward, circling Draco in small steps around him, his head lowered, not saying a thing before he stood right in front of him, his face inches away from his, his mouth now stretched into a firm smile.

"Malfoy, how ever did you pass the security?" he asked mockingly, with only slight curiousity ringing in his voice, his wand pointed at his forehead.

Ginny gasped, trying to sit up, but Devon gave her such a warning look that she cowered, huddling into herself, watching with fearful eyes as Devon's wand dug into Draco's bare skin. Draco seemed to blink several times before answering, his voice coming out with the first words as dead-prone and blank, then grew with expression.

"I daresay, Myers," Draco said, a grin spreading into his face. "You need a bit more help with the security - perhaps I could help you?"

Puzzlement pressed into her - what was going on? Why was Draco grinning, and most of all, why did he sound so jovial?

"Draco..." she croaked, furrowing her eyebrows as Devon released his wand grip from the silver-blonde.

"Shall we curse her together?" Devon asked excitedly, pointing his wand toward Ginny, who whose neck hairs were prickling sharply - something was wrong - there was something not right with this picture...

"May I?" Draco asked politely.

"Certainly." The brunette handed him the wand, in which he tucked upon his fingers.

"Draco...Draco...what're you doing?" she gasped as Draco turned around, facing her. His eyes were like pools of gray - there was nothing in them - nothing at all. He was dead, emotionless except for the malicious smile on his face. But Ginny knew the smile was forced, because his kneecaps were shaking rapidly, and sweat was dropping at the side of his neck and into his shoulder.

"Draco!" she screamed, but as soon as the name was out of her mouth, she heard him say something - and slid across the floor, landing against the wall before falling into the hard surface of the floor, the crack of her head deafening her eardrums, the split of her neck like slow motion as her neck snapped awkwardly at the side. Her legs and arms entangled at the painful position she was in, weakness filling her along with drowsiness.

She felt pain surging through her like no other as she shrieked, but nobody could hear her - she was trapped inside of her body, trying to escape from it, struggling out of her mouth, trying to comprehend exactly what was happening, but whenever she said something, blood seeped at the parting of her lips. She closed her eyes, letting herself drown into the sweet bliss that unconsciousness provided her, only whimpering as blood trickled out of her nostril and dribbled into her chin, drenching her sweater crossways, crawling right across the middle of her chest, where her heart would be. There was nothing else left to do then allow herself to crawl and settle into the darkness.

~*~

Vivid imagery flashed through her mind as if she was really seeing them. These visions only occupied the small space left in her mind, but it was enough. She felt herself move along with them, reaching out, trying to touch them with the tips of her fingers - but there was no use. They weren't real. Every time she tried to open her eyes it seemed as if she was suffocating into water that stung her eyelids and made the fluids inside of her flutter against herself. There was a buzzing in her ears, but whenever she tried to hear them, gnaw at them, they grew smaller, distancing themselves from her. Everything was growing away from her...everything.

"Ginny, wake up," said a voice. "Please, wake up."

I can't, she tried to say, but as her mouth parted, she felt her stomach lurch, urging itself to rinse out of her mouth, and frightened by the prospect of throwing up as she slept, she pursed her lips firmly, grinding her teeth against each other. Colors flashed by her mind, scenarios that were now visible across her closed eyes. One specific scenario - it was Ginny, wrapped around somebody as he held his arms across her back tightly. She was sobbing into him, and he was caressing her neck and shoulders all with one hand, telling her everything would be okay and everything was now mended, even her heart.

But every time she leaned forward and tried to grasp it, she couldn't.

Because it would never be real.

~*~

Draco could read words etched at the back of his brain. He could feel his whole body burning with his injuries, he could feel blood rushing to his head whenever he tried to blink or sit up. There was nobody else in this room, it was like a tiny cubicle, and he couldn't spread the curtains apart to see where he was - but the waver of medicine and something that smelled strongly like lemon could be sniffed throughout the air, hovering above him. His clothes had been changed, of course. The layers of clothing had been replacing with a small blue see-through overcoat that tied in the back. Each movement embellished on his wounds. He found himself flinching and silently crying for help every single millisecond.

He needn't know who changed his tray everyday, because he was asleep by that time, and when he awoke, fresh new meals had been placed, along with water. He only sipped a bit of water and didn't touch his food, only rolled it around with his fork when he was feeling energetic. Draco could only vaguely recall what had happened. Devon had forced him with a curse that made his mind jerk into something implacable, and he had attacked Ginny. After his body had hit realization that the two bodies on the floor were Mindy and Ginny, he had pounced on Devon, with all intentions of hurting him as much as possible. He could remember several duels with him, and by the end of it, he was looking down at an almost-lifeless Devon Myers sprawled on the white tiles, blood soaking in his hairs, and then Draco passed out quickly, weakness overcoming him like cold steel, wind brushing past him as he fell.

And yet, though pain surfaced against his flesh like pricking white-hot-pain in orderly fashion, the only image he was able to see was Ginny, limp, like a doll, instead of her hair cascading her shoulders it was blood, and instead of auburn strands of red spreading across her face, it was liquid crimson. What was worse besides the fact that she was hurt - was that he had caused her, no matter what the reason was. And instead of him falling with a thud on the floor - he never landed, he just kept on falling, the intensifying lightness surrounding his body. He wondered if he would ever stop.

~*~

Draco was writing. With his eyes fixated on his quill he wrote several letters that formed words that did not make sense, but they weren't supposed to. He was trying to occupy the time in the air, writing anything that came to him, ink sprouting the blank parchments with his small, black, and cursive writing. But suddenly his features transfixed from determination to surprise as he heard someone sniff beside him, indicating that he was not alone as he thought he was. He turned his head, and saw that it was Ginny, clutching herself. Oddly enough, she was not in her Christmas clothes, but in a white nightgown that fluttered across her legs and covered her arms. But there was still something engraved on the space between her neck and chest - the gleaming, heart-shaped scar.

"Draco, who are you writing to?" she asked in wonderment, her curly hair enveloping the sides of her face innocently.

"You," he found himself saying, his hand trembling on the parchment he was holding. 

"What are you writing about?" She frowned, her brown eyes glowering in bewilderment.

"How I feel about you," Draco found those words trailing off his mouth like endless waves of water.

"And how _do_ you feel?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her lips uplifting into a small smile. 

"I don't know," he confessed, the parchments falling out of his hand and into the floor. Ginny looked at him expectantly as she leaned over and picked it off the floor as if it were as light as a feather, and began to read, her eyes skimming the words, devouring them.

"I see," she whispered, her eyes peering over the parchment she had in her grasp. She was giving him a dreamy, calculating look.

"What does it say?" Draco asked, biting his lip, wondering if he wanted to know the answer.

"It says..." Ginny paused, poising forward, and pressing the parchment into his chest, rubbing into it vigorously, her nose wrinkling in that way it always did, as if she was trying to get a stain out of a dress. "You should know, Draco...it's your heart."

"It is?"

She offered him a coy grin. "Of course it is."

"Where are you going?" Draco blinked his eyes into vision as Ginny's body began to dissolve around the edges.

Ginny didn't answer.

"Wait! Will you ever come back?" he asked helplessly.

She nodded. "I will."

"When?" he prodded.

"When you figure it out..." she murmured, one finger on his forehead before she vanished into thin air, only circular motions that left behind her trace.

Draco Malfoy lurched from bed, a pained expression on his face as he woke up, sweat trickling down into his chin, the truth hitting him like a hammer drilling into his lungs, emotions that he had felt before, but had never distinguished, raining clearly into his mind.

He had figured it out.

~*~

Attentively, Harry reached out, softly shaking Draco's shoulders with both hands. It took only moments for the feminine eyelashes to flutter open, gray eyes looking wearily up at him. The snarl that escaped from his lips was well known. "Potter," he announced hastily.

"That's me," Harry replied in a jovial voice, a smile quivering at his lips. "Did I wake you from the beauty sleep?"

"No, _of course not_," Draco retorted, rolling his eyes. "I am still asleep, actually. See, I can talk in my sleep while I have my eyes open as well, and other amazing things. For example, do you know that when I use my feet to move forward, I can _walk_?" he asked, in mock amazement, shaking his head in false awe.

"Yes, that _is_ astonishing," Harry nodded, his smile expanding as he took a seat beside the bed, while making sure he held the curtains apart so he could see him. "How have you been?"

"Where's Ginny?" Draco prompted, ignoring the question.

"--I mean, I haven't been able to visit you because you know, St. Mungo's, they only allowed family for a while but ---"

"Is she okay? Is she breathing?"

"--And they have restrictions, but I managed to sneak in -- "

"Potter..." 

"--Then they caught me, and you were sound asleep anyways and so the next day I asked and they said they allowed other members outside the family to come in, as long as I don't have a criminal record and my name isn't from anything that was ---"

"Are you going to answer me?" he growled in frustration, watching Harry's lips move, his eyes distanced from Draco.

"--And I told them, it was actually one of the times I am grateful to be who I am - I told them straightforward, it's me, you dumbass, well actually I didn't really say dumbass, that's too Slytherin. But I said it's me you idiot, well actually, I didn't say idiot, because that's too cruel, so I said it's me you bas- well, actually, didn't say that either..."

"YOU ARE SO DAMN ANNOYING!"

"So I said - it's me, Harry--"

"_POTTER_!"

Harry stopped talking, the timid smile relaxing into his face. "What?" he blinked innocently.

"How is Ginny?"

His shoulders stiffened, and he seemed frozen for countless moments before he cleared his throat momentarily. "Ginny's...fine."

"Liar," Draco teased.

"She's - they're working on her," Harry offered in a small, vague voice.

Draco appeared to be crestfallen at this news. With a disdainful nod, he pressed his back against his bed once more, his head pounding, his stomach rolling with fresh worry.

"Oh." He closed his eyes, and could feel Harry's piercing stare lock into him, but said nothing at all. His limbs frozen, his heart pacing at a decreased pace, he merely recalled Ginny's face, her sweet, cute face, the freckles that sprinkled upon her nose, and how small she looked when she was sad, curled against herself in a little ball of sulking. "Oh," he echoed himself once more, now opening his eyes to the light that invaded his vision.

"She'll be fine," Harry said in a self-reassuring voice. "She will, Malfoy."

Draco turned his head, and saw the hopeful look that had washed over Harry's face, the twinkle of anticipation in his eyes, and the quiver of his chin. He turned away, emotion flashing through him. One could only hope.

~*~

It was the next day that Ginny Weasley woke up. The delusions had come to their limits, her head was pounding still, an aching pain that crossed through her forehead and into her neck whenever she made a movement, and when she forced herself to turn over, her throat would go dry, threatening to reveal all contents to escape from her stomach. 

Severe pain reached her as Ginny opened her eyes, her chest protruding in surprise as she heard several noises that had disturbed her sleep rather quickly. A woman around her fourties was leaning over her, a brunette that gave a small squeak of horror as she saw Ginny's eyes opened before her, dropping the tray promptly on the floor.

"Sorry! Sorry!" the brunette apologized frantically, sweeping the mess on the floor with a swish of her wand, and it vanished quickly. "Didn't mean to wake you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"What?" Ginny raised an eyebrow at the nurse. "It's Miss Weasley, actually." She observed the nurse's name tag, which read: Brooke Cannings.

"Miss _Weasley_?" Brooke sputtered, her eyes widening with puzzlement. "Oh, I am sorry, I _just _started being a nurse again - I am _so_ clumsy, you see. You look _just_ like Lucius's first wife, I treated her when she was pregnant, when I used to be a Healer - they're glad to rid of me, heavens knows what I would've done to a patient." She shook her head, her hair shaking on her shoulders, straight wavy hair that curled at her back, her brown eyes glittering with familiarity. "I am being silly," she ridiculed herself, rolling her eyes as she waved her hands in a rapid manner of circular motions. "I always get people mixed up. What do you want, juice or water? I am sorry about the tray, I just---"

"Lucius Malfoy?" Ginny questioned curiously.

"Why, yes," Brooke replied, slightly breathless, twirling a strand of her hair in her fingers. 

"But his wife has a different hair color," she reminded Brooke, unease beginning to grow at her stomach. "Why would you mix her up with me?"

"Oh," Brooke murmured. "I could've sworn...nothing, it's nothing, now, I am off to get a new tray..."

"No, wait!" Ginny said, quickly leaping forward, then grimacing immediately at the agony that it provided her. Clutching her chest, she sank back into her pillows.

"Be careful," Brooke warned her. "I still have one more wound to fix - your healer would've done it, but I am far more experienced in the healing process, even though I have a tendency to mend a bit more..." she gave a nervous laugh. 

"Listen," Ginny croaked. "What did you mean? About Lucius Malfoy's 'first wife'?" she demanded. "You mean he had a second?" Ginny prompted, thinking of Narcissa Malfoy, the graceful, Veela-like beauty that she had once seen at the Qudditch Cup years ago.

"He _might've_..." she said thoughtfully in a vague sort of voice. "It's a possibility. I just remember - his first wife, as I call it, had red hair, just like yours, of course, I shouldn't have mixed you up with her, she was far more older, around her thirties, that. But she did have youth in her, and Lucius absolutely adored her."

"Why was she in St. Mungo's though? Isn't that for conditions far by superior?"

Brooke's eyes shone with sadness, and regretfully, she inclined her head at Ginny in wonderment. "Yes. I'll never forget it...,it was a condition like no other. She was pregnant, eight months I think...and she kept getting pains. It's not regular pains though, sometimes she'd collapse more than three times a day. We kept her for a while, I was a Healer then, so I thought it was something that had nothing to do with the baby. Well, at least I hoped so. But when we ran tests on her, the results kept coming out inconclusive, or damaged. It amazed us of course, and we had to do it many more times until anything showed up, and they showed us nothing we didn't already know. We had many theories, of course, but somehow they were never proven correctly. We tested to see if it was anything she was eating or drinking, but the results got damaged at that too. So finally, when she had the baby, I was present, and the baby - poor little thing, it barely survived, some condition with his heart. We tried to test his blood, but the moment we came back, the baby was gone, and so was Lucius, and the woman had fallen asleep." She shook her head, her voice trembling slightly, then looked up to see Ginny, who was awestruck.

"Oh, I am sorry," she cooed. "I've been blabbering again, I always do that..."

"C-can- you - " her throat caught dry. "Can you possibly remember what the baby's name was? Please?"

Brooke's frown turned into a timid uplift, her eyes dreamy and wondrous. "Yes. I couldn't remember the woman's name, but I can still remember his. What a strange name."

"What was it?" Ginny prodded impatiently, her legs shaking beneath the many layers of blankets. Brooke's eyes met hers.

"Draco," she announced. "Isn't it strange? Well, must go get you a new tray, dear." 

And with that, Brooke turned swiftly with the tray in her hands, closing the door behind her.

Ginny could taste vomit coming from her throat, and forced it down with difficulty. She froze, lowering her head to glance downwards, and caught sight of the necklace Draco had given her. It's chain was concealing half of the heart-shaped scar with it's own glittering locket, dangling across her now feverish chest.

~*~

Draco Malfoy thought he was dreaming when his eyes opened, and he saw a shade of red flash by his eyes. It was Ginny, seated at the corner of his bed, huddled in the small way she always was, her knees to her chin, her arms around her legs, with her back to him. She looked more vulnerable than he had ever seen before, her hair strung over her face like manes of auburn, her shoulders slightly shaking. He forced himself to sit up, and lean over to her, in which she quickly turned her head, her mouth drifting into a faint smile.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice soft and timidly spoken. There was a scar on the bridge of her nose, but other than that, she looked more better than ever, the blood had evaportated, and she only cringed a tiny portion as she turned her head.

"Ginny..." he breathed, his hand caressing her shoulder, his eyes locking with hers. There was something in her eyes that confused him - they were glowering with something like sympathy and sheer emotion that he could not define. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"Yes," she agreed, nodding her head downwards, her eyes away from his. 

"I - I am sorry," Draco suddenly stammered, his fingers moving from her shoulder and down her arm, tickling her bare skin until it met her hand, in which he tucked within his palm. It felt delicate in his grasp, smooth, soft skin he felt, a tingling vibration that crawled into his skin and turned around his blood as he held her hand, not meeting her eyes, but feeling comfortable, with their knees barely touching, but their flesh still brushing against each other.

"I know," Ginny murmured, raising her head. He was startled to see tears welling in her eyes, tears that sprinkled into her cheeks and rolled onto the opening of her lips. The bittersweet taste dissolved in her mouth as she took a shuddering breath. His hand fell away from hers, and he raised it to brush the tears away with the tips of his fingers, only leaving smears of liquid that ran crossways of her cheeks. His hand wandered her neck, and he felt something hard cling against his thumb. Draco looked down, observing the chain, his hand around the heart-shaped locket, and pushed it away, to see the scar that she had tried to hide. Carefully, he touched it with his index finger, prodding it slowly and methodically. She gave a pained gasp, but didn't protest. He felt a burning sensation lingering into his veins as he touched it. She closed her eyes and fell against him. He cradled her frail body in his arms, his hands clinging on desperately onto her strands of flaming red hair. The familiarity of her hair twirling in his fingers excluded the conclusion that this was a dream. The blissful feeling of her warmth, touch, smile, laugh and just, her, having her, in his arms. She was his, and he was hers. 

It was neither a dream, a fantasy, nor a nightmare. 

It was reality. And it struck him hard in the chest.

~*~

"They're asleep," hissed Harry warningly to Ron. "Don't wake them."

"I don't care! My sister's _on top of him_," Ron reminded him, sputtering in outrage, staring pointedly at the two bodies that were closely huddled together beside each other on the bed.

"Oh, stop emphasizing, Ron," said Hermione who had just arrived, a steaming mug of cocoa in her hands. "She's not on top of him. She probably went to comfort them. When she wakes up, we'll lead her back to her own room. Leave them alone."  


Ron made a doubtful noise, but said nothing else, turning around and promptly exiting the room, his arms at his side, with a swift slam of the door. Harry threw Hermione an amused look, which she returned gratefully, and handed him the mug of cocoa.

"How is she?" Hermione asked, nodding toward Ginny as he took a sip, the heated liquid plunging down his throat.

"Seems pretty good now," Harry remarked teasingly, in which Hermione gave him a small punch on the shoulder playfully.

"I mean, how is she _doing_?" she prodded specifically.

"I think she's doing better. Malfoy's having tough luck though, I think he has pains when he moves," Harry notified her, shaking his head.

"Yes, what a shame," she retorted in an almost concerned voice, if it weren't for the slight sarcasm ringing in it. She turned to Harry, pushing her hair gently away from the corners of her face. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged, his arms folded across his chest now that he had set down the mug. "I suppose. I am just feeling a bit guilty. If I had gone with Malfoy --"

"Nothing would've changed, though," Hermione confirmed. "Believe me. Neither you or Draco could have opened the door. Restricted to family members only. The Myers are a very powerful purebred family. I think the snow security thing wasn't too bad, actually," she added carefully along an afterthought.

"Speaking of family..." he trailed off, his voice growing faint as Ginny gave a soft groan and turned over in her sleep, creating more distance from Draco.

"Mindy?" Hermione questioned.

Harry nodded in reply. She grabbed his arm with a frantic look at the couple in bed, who seemed to be waking in a slow but visible process, and they walked out the door, quietly closing the door behind them.

"I've spoken to her," she began dully. "She can hardly remember much. But she's definately Devon's sister."

"They look so different though," he objected.

"Yes, well, I suppose Mindy is on her mother's side and Devon's on his father's."

"How is Mindy doing?"

"She's moved back home for further treatment. The Deja Vu, that shop that she runs, is closed down, thank God. She acted as if it was her whole life. Maybe it was," Hermione said softly underneath her breath, an expression of pity growing over her face. She shuddered. "Maybe we should visit Mindy sometime."

"Maybe," Harry agreed half-heartedly, but wasn't really listening. After all, the way Hermione's eyes were glowering at the floor and the way her hair shook over her pretty, cherry-shaped face was quite a distracting event...

~*~

"Have a good sleep?" asked Draco, sitting up in his bed. He observed Ginny closely through his eyelashes, watching her rub her eyes vigorously, trying to rid of the sleep.

"Yes, I suppose," she murmured, then looked up at him. He truly looked amused, and almost happy, even though he flinched at least a couple of times. She didn't want anything to ruin his happiness. She thought of joking with him and talking with him for the whole day, touching him lightly, kissing him and taking care of him, and it was quite a tempting option. But she knew what she had to do. It might be painful for him to accept, and she had no idea why she was doing this, exactly, but keeping the secret that longed to be out was burning in her chest.

"Draco?" Ginny whispered, nuzzling her forehead against his neck. He pulled her closer underneath the covers, his heartbeat audible against hers.

"Mmm?" he whispered, his lips caught on her hair.

"Listen --" But before she could say anything else, the words tumbled into a gasp as the door swung open to reveal a very petite Narcissa Malfoy.

~*~


	12. if you need me

__

Abandon

Narcissa Malfoy was delicately beautiful for many reasons. Her bright, silver-blonde hair scrambled down her shoulders like she was a goddess, her gray eyes glimmered even in the timid sunlight, and the small, black dress that she was wearing fit her slender body like second skin, her nose small, her face pale, the only thing luminous the red lips that stood out, like two purloin rubies shimmering in their classic bloodied color. Her features detected distress, the fine lines in her wrinkles were barely visible but she was frowning so grotesquely that the lines were fairly abrupt.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed, waving a hand, offering him a forced smile, then her eyes turning to Ginny, who had quickly gotten off of him, and was now sitting at the edge of her bed, her heart rising to her throat in complete shock. 

"And who is this?" Narcissa asked, the question hissing out of her mouth with a violent glare.

"This," Draco replied, his voice cold but collective, imitating his mother's hiss, "Is Ginny. Ginny, won't you be a dear and get off my leg?"

Ginny threw him an extremely dirty look before gracefully tumbling off, straightening her hospital gown, folding down the creases, and waved at Narcissa with a polite smile. "Hello."

Narcissa acknowledged her with a nod. "Draco, can we talk, please? _Alone_?" she said, embellishing on the last word, her nails digging into her chin as she said this with the sweetest smile she could possibly manage.

"Anything you have to say you can say in front of Ginny, _mother_," he drawled, using the term 'mother' rather loosely.

Ginny widened her eyes, quickly observing both of them with a small, forced plastered smile. "Oh, no, no, please, no trouble at all. Excuse me," she said hurriedly, brushing past the gorgeous woman and opening the door, and without a glance, quickly running out of the room and nudging the door closed behind her.

~*~

Ginny Weasley finally had time to herself. She remembered thinking quiet was all she needed, a time to relax her eyes and not feel her injuries suffocate her constantly. And yet, there were too many thoughts to occupy her head. Why had Narcissa come? Although disgusted with herself for doubting that Narcissa had visited her son on the sake of willingness, she knew the possibility had rare chances. And of course, was Narcissa really his mother in the first place? Pity and disbelief filled her chest like water filling a glass, as she reflected on what had happened in barely a couple of weeks. Was it a mistake bringing Draco to the Burrow? Would all these things have been neglected from happening if Draco wasn't present?

No, she told herself firmly. Don't even think it, Ginny Weasley. He was going to die, and the guilt if you left him like that is much more painful than this. It has to be more painful then this, she persuaded herself. The thought of Draco mangled somewhere on the sidewalks of London was almost unbearable. She flinched at the mental image, and then felt a lump rise in her throat. Damn it, she groaned silently. Don't cry now. He's fine. Really. He's fine - he's fine...

But tears were rolling involuntarily down her cheeks, landing into the edge of her mouth. The thought of somebody hurting Draco - it hurt her more than she could ever imagine. Why was she feeling this way? About him? He teased her in school, bullied her about the crush on Harry she had, and did many other horrible things, like ruining a portion of her brother's life, and yet here she was, caring about him. It was ridiculous. 

No it's not, a small voice in the back of her mind. It's not ridiculous to love someone so much that it hurts you physically. It's not ridiculous if your heart burns for him because it'll never be requited. It's not ridiculous to pray sometimes at night, wishing he would feel the same way, wishing he'd bring you some happiness instead of sadness. It's not ridiculous to wince every time he acts like you don't exist, and only pretend to care because of other...relations. It's not ridiculous...because you can't help who you love.

Are we talking about Draco here...or someone else? she asked herself, but her mind had no answer. Her heart was pounding frantically against her chest as she leaned against the wall, trying to smear the tears on her cheeks with the sides of her fingers, feeling the usual flush wash over her face. There was a soft voice that suddenly prompted her to open her eyes quickly. The person had evidently been passing by when he had caught sight of her.

"Ginny?" It was Harry, leaning over her, grazing his cheekbone in his hand. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Do you want me to get you back to your room?"

She took a sharp intake of her breath. It was as if she was just meeting him. His features were very unlike Draco's, more peach-colored than pale white, like Draco's. His glasses fell over at the tip of his nose, and he clumsily nudged them with the tips of his fingers. She felt a smile crawl into his face. Even now, there was still that little feeling when he was around. She didn't know him, of course - because he spent more time with his two best friends. She didn't know him at all, and he didn't know her either. But the way he was leaning, their bodies perfectly angled so that every curve met every other curve. She found herself digging her face into his neck as he awkwardly caressed her shoulders with both hands. The small tingling sensations she often felt with him were gone. They were replaced by something more profound, something old and natural that had been reserved for the last ten years. It was never like this with Draco, in which she felt new, refreshing bliss.

And she had no idea whether that was a bad thing or a good thing. And she had no idea which was better.

The door swung open, to reveal a flustered-looking Narcissa Malfoy. She ran past them, the back of her dress fluttering in the distance. There were more footsteps audible as Draco came out of the room, looking after his mother in a sneering disgust before his eyes captured on the embracing couple near him. His lips parted, but no words came out. Harry let go of Ginny so easily, so quickly that she felt a small eluding disappointment, but then was shocked to see the look on Draco's face.

It was a rigid, calculating look, almost emotionless. His voice came out slightly stifled as he spoke. "I see."

Harry started to protest, "No, it's not--" but Draco didn't let him finish. Holding up a hand, he raised an eyebrow at them once more before entering his room, and slamming the door so hard behind him that the window of it seemed to jingle before it cracked into several lines - pure, untouched glass was now tainted, and Ginny could not help but thinking that there might be a similarity with his heart.

~*~

Draco failed to observe the brighter view of this day. He felt as if he had been kneed in the groin, surfaced against ice, and slid across burning fire. It was worse enough that guilt filled him whenever he saw Ginny, it was worse enough his mother had stopped by and they had argued instantly the moment the door slammed shut and she left in fury, unable to say what she was there for. It was worse enough - that when he finally felt civil toward Potter, even felt teasingly enticed by him - a friendship was almost possible - that all hell had broken loose and unleashed itself on him. Potter had embraced Ginny with his own arms, and she had cried on his shoulder - why was she acting as if they were the only ones in the world? What emotion had become so distraught, so taken away from her that she turned to Potter instead of him?

There was an audible knock on the door. He didn't turn around, didn't say a thing. He looked at his bed as if it was the most interesting object in the world, as if it's particles were more important than anything else's. Harry's footsteps were even familiar to him, as were Ginny's. He felt his lips crawl into a sardonic grin. He had no idea what other expression was available for show. "Hello," he drawled without turning to look at him. "Come to gloat, Potter?"

"No," Harry replied, somewhat of uncertainty ringing in his voice. "Malfoy, look --"

"No, _you_ look here, Potter." Draco had now turned around, stonily glaring at the person before him. His knees were shaking, but his mouth kept going, and his tongue refused to roll off the words. "For almost seven years I watched you get whatever you wanted, to have all the fame anybody could ask for. I've watched you catch the snitch numerous times, make me feel like a complete idiot, made Slytherin look like some kind of a fool. But it's my turn now. You can't _have_ her. She belongs to me. She belongs to me!" he yelled, his saliva sprinkling on his face. 

__

She. Belongs. To me.

The words charged him like electricity, hitting him with the shock and apprehension he had been holding in. He knew Harry was looking back at him, awestruck.

It even hurt to blink. 

Draco felt dazed as he fell against the bed, turning over. He didn't want to look at Harry. Because the words were still echoing in his eardrums, more clear than ever. And he was sure Ginny had heard them as well, because his voice had reached it's limit. His throat ached from the screaming. He struggled to strife with himself. He clenched his fists, not even caring anymore if Potter was still standing there, looking at him, just sinking into the warmth of his blankets and dissolving into the sweetest slumber he had ever had. Because this time, he had an odd feeling nobody would wake him up this time.

~*~

Ginny Weasley fought with herself all the way to her hospital room. I shouldn't be eavesdropping, she thought to herself sternly. I can tolerate myself. If they want to discuss this, they will discuss it on their own. But the feeling of plunging suspision lay itself upon her chest, refusing to let go. The look of complete, serene calm had poured over Draco's face, and Ginny couldn't get it out of her mind. That look, that look that represented repressed anger, sustained uneasiness with a block of a blink. 

As she swung open the door, she entered her room. Somehow she felt it was glittering with something that had entered along with her. There was a new tray, filled with various colored contents, and her bed had been made once more, neat and trim at the corners of the bedspread. She gave a soft yawn, her arms outstretched as she tumbled backwards into the bed, careful not to leave any creases, and closed her eyes, wishing for a blissful sleep that would take her away and make her vanish quietly. But there was no such look, as she heard Brooke's voice calling sharply from the doorway.

"Ginny!" the exasperated voice of Brooke prompted. "Where did you go?"

"Wandering," she muttered, 

"Wandering," Brooke repeated, shaking her head in mere disappointment. "Settle down, I have to bewitch your last wound."

"Is it going to hurt?" Ginny asked, her shoulders tensing as she sat up, unbuttoning the front of her blue robe, and settling it at her bare shoulders, looking expectantly around the room as Brooke took something that seemed to be a small, light pale bottle that contained something violet bubbling from the inside. Brooke frowned in concentration, her eyebrows furrowing, her forehead ceasing in many lines, and her skin making their wrinkles visible.

"If you don't move," Brooke replied curtly, and unscrewed the top of the bottle, and placed it on her neck, letting the potion suffice in her skin. It crawled among the many layers of her skin, stinging it, refreshing her blood Ginny closed her eyes, the intensifying emotion of fear overcoming her. It was the heart-shaped scar she was going to attempt to unscramble, to fix, to mend. Don't you know? she wanted to yell. Don't you know it'll never be fixed? Even if it vanishes, can you fix the one in my heart too?

"Damn!" Brooke cursed. 

"What is it?" she whispered timidly. She didn't need to open her eyes when the answer came.

"It won't mend."

"It won't?" she echoed in what must've sounded like a wistful question.

"No it won't. It's like it's - it's far too - far too-" Brooke waved her hand, looking as if the word was at the tip of her tongue, waiting for it's release.

"Broken," Ginny murmured underneath her breath, a chill running over her body like an ocean splashing over her lungs.

~*~

Harry was in turmoil as he reached The Burrow, with Hermione walking behind him, her arms folded across her chest, her head bowed, not saying a word. Their footsteps clattered, crunching on the fresh grass, the dewy smell hovering beneath his nostrils, his hands stuck firmly inside his pockets. 

"Harry?" Hermione prompted suddenly, jerking her head upwards toward him.

"Mmm?" he murmured, still preoccupied with his own thoughts.

"What happened? Why did you want to leave?" she asked, a curious look pouring over her face as she tilted her head. He was envious of her face - it had the gentle brushing of her tender looking hair surrounding it, enveloping her face in many strands. Gulping slightly, he pushed away a tendril of her hair and pushed it behind her ears, feeling the tips of his fingers tingle as they touched her neck. She gazed at him with an unexpected puzzlement. 

"I - I just - nothing," he stammered, the words rolling off his tongue, mingled with saliva. "It's nothing. I just don't feel comfortable there. If you want to go back..."

She shook her head, a smile erupting into her mouth. "No, no, it's alright, Harry. No need to explain," she protested, her smile turning into a grim grin. "I know what's going on here. But you don't need to be shy around Ginny."

"What?" Harry sputtered, in utter puzzlement. His eyebrows arched upwards.

"I know you have a little crush on her!" Hermione drawled carelessly. "It's fine with me, no need to pretend."

"Hermione ---" he interrupted abruptly, a look of frustration stringing over his blinded expression. "I don't like _Ginny_," he said, saying her name carefully, shifting uneasily at the look of concentration penetrating onto her face.

"Then who?" she asked thoughtfully, blinking at him.

Harry wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, ask her why didn't she notice the person right in front of her. Instead, he shoved down the lump rising in his throat and forced his voice to stay steady. "Hermione..." His heartbeat was faltering. He was going to tell her once and for all. Sweat was dribbling into his chest from his neckline. He could count every wrinkle on her face, every emotion, everything that flashed through her eyes. He felt exposed. But no matter how much he wanted to keep his lips tightly closed together in uniting, he knew this would have to be over with once and for all. He opened his mouth - the glowering realization creased the lines on her face, but she remained quietly, watching him try to speak. The words refused to come out, only various choking noises escaped, still lingering in his tongue and waiting to be set back to his mind.

"Hey, you two lovebirds over there, does Draco Malfoy live here?" 

The loud question brought them back to reality. Jumping a slight distance in the air in surprise, they turned, and saw that they were not alone. Against the door of the entrance stood a woman. But not just any woman. This was a woman that took his breath away and even made Hermione gape in shock. Her clothes were skimpy, fitting her like second skin, clinging onto her, wrapping around her every round curve, and caressing her tight stomach. She had a cigarette placed in between her fingers, and the aroma rose unpleasantly under their noses as she took a small intake of it, and made the dusty smoke escape once more through her glittering pink lips. Her hair had a remarkable resemblance toward Ginny's as well, at the side of her gray eyes were red ringlets of auburn that cascaded through her shoulder blades.

"Who - who are you?" Hermione squeaked. Harry didn't blame her. This woman was not only breathtaking, but also three feet taller than her, and towered over them, and she looked only in her thirties still.

She raised a small eyebrow at them, twirling the cigarette in between her fingers as if it was as light as a feather, smoke filling the air and swerving around in circular motions. "Me? Oh. I am his - his -" she gestured in the air, shrugging her shoulders.

"His what?" Harry said, giving her a stern look. He tried to look braver than he felt. He wondered if the woman was strong enough to hold him down and press the cigarette tip into his skull and turn him into ashes.

She looked at him skeptically, calculating him, then made a sardonic uplift of her lips. "Damn, you look good."

"Excuse me!" Hermione said, poising forward with her hands on her hips, glaring at the woman with determination visible in her features. "I asked, who are you? This is not your property."

"Who _am_ I?" the woman echoed, anger rising in her voice, audible and louder than ever. 

"Yes," retorted Hermione snappishly. "You were about to tell us. Draco's--?"

The woman took another puff of the cigarette, rising her arm above her head and leaning against the door, a sly look over her face. "Draco's...mother?"

~*~

Draco was asleep. Ginny hadn't observed him asleep before, and now that she had, she immediately regretted it. The circles under his eyes were more than visible, etched into his flesh. He looked weak and pale, his knees brought up to barely brush against his lips, curled into a ball, his teeth caught one of his overlarge silver-blonde strands. She touched his hair, feeling the silky surface between her fingers, making a mental note that he needed a haircut once he was out of here. Her hair fell in curls, tickling the sides of his nose. He made a sudden movement, something choked in his throat as he opened his eyes, rubbing them vigorously before blinking them into vision several times, as if he wasn't going to believe what he was seeing.

"Hi," Ginny greeted nervously, pulling away from him, her hand caressing his shoulder slightly.

"Hello," Draco replied stonily, his features turning from oblivious to stern. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Weasley?" he sneered in a malicious voice.

The word hit her like ice. Her mouth seemed to get much too dry, her throat itched, struggling to get saliva. She withdrew her hand sharply from his shoulder, stumbling back into the room. She wanted to gasp, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hurt him as much as possible. This couldn't be. No, things would not go back to the way they were. Not after this. Not after all that had happened. She couldn't stifle her shock anymore. She fell back into a nearby chair beside his bed, avoiding his eyes. She wouldn't look at him. Never again. Not when these tears were stinging in her eyes, not when her knees were shaking.

It was too good to be true, her mind prompted at her haughtily. You didn't think he'd actually be different, did you? Did you draw a fantasy of Draco Malfoy and expect him to become it forever? Because if you did, you are a fucking idiot, Ginny Weasley, a fucking idiot.

He's not a fantasy. He's real.

But not the way she thought he would be.

"Weasley, could you stop blubbering? I am trying to _sleep_ here," said the exasperated voice of Draco from his bed, his face expressionless, his voice blunt and hard. The tone of voice was so familiar that it plunged into her brain in realization. 

Where had she heard that kind of voice before?

Devon. He's Devon.

Nothing else.

She pushed back her chair so abruptly that Draco jumped upright into an awkward sitting position, a look of both concern and puzzlement falling over her face.

Ginny was tripping over her own legs, slurring the words that she wanted to come out of her mouth. The tears dissolved into the corner of her mouth and lingered it's salty particles at her dry, fuzzy tongue. The world was beneath her, she could feel it. Her heart was jumping, leaping for control, shattering into pieces at the same time. This is not real, she told herself. Nothing is real anymore. Nothing.

He had fooled her. 

Just like Devon, just like Devon, her mind mocked.

He was going to pay. 

He was going to pay.

She was going to make him pay.

She wouldn't let anybody else ever hurt her _again_.

Because, she thought, the tears now dribbling down to her chin, it's not possible for any more pain. I'll die.

__

Then again, I'll have to, anyways.

Her vision turned into a million shades of white before she collapsed, hearing Draco cry out loud as she fell to the floor facedown, smashing like several cracks on the floor, her heartbeat faltering almost as if it were snowflakes that fell down in a particularly slow, feathery process. Blood was trickling at the side of her face, rolling off her cheeks, and staining her gown in auburn liquid. And if anyone had looked closely, they could see the smallest bit of a satisfied smile crawled at the corners of her lips in a threatening uplift.

~*~

Death is a hollow dream. It surrounds you with darkness and until you open your eyes you can never see the light again. Any voices, sound, was deprived from Ginny in such a way that she was in pure belief that she was dead. The regretful sorrow filled her chest, brushing against each other like a magnetic electrification, too false to be real, and too real to touch with the tips of her fingers. How could she be dead? She would never see her family again, never see Harry again, never see Draco again. She didn't have to supress her fears or sadness here, where the havens were steel and the color was black.

She pondered the many corridors of death, walking swiftly, because whenever she turned, colors would change and blur in her vision like a domestic painting. She wondered if there would ever be any other color besides black, and then the world changed blue all of a sudden. It just seemed so real, and yet when she tried to grasp the images around her, she couldn't, it was like transparent reality that escaped from her hand and icy cool air that tickled her fingers.

"Ginny," a sudden voice called. She wasn't allowed to feel startled or surprised. Death is no emotion. Death is nothing, like a blank insomniac air that rushes through you as you hang onto the edge and try to never let go.

"Ginny, can you hear me?" the voice said again, gentle and soft. She recognized that voice quickly - it was Draco's voice. But where was he? She wanted to speak, but death wouldn't let her. Any words that came out of her mouth were muffled by burbles, nothing, her words were blocked by pure air, because death's air is invisible ice that you can't talk through, walk through, or feel through.

"No," she wanted to say. "I am right here. I am in death."

But then something was pulling her - something large, massive was pulling onto her mouth - what was happening? It was sucking her lungs out. Death was dissolving around her, similar to many swirling pieces of paint, and she could feel her feet leaving the stone. She was leaving. Bliss overcame her as she closed her eyes and drowned into the feeling of being torn apart into shreds and back again, mending her, loving her. She awoke with a lurch, with somebody's lips fixating on hers, tender, timid and hopeful, and opened her eyes to the brightening light and wanted to cry, thinking about all those times she wanted to keep her eyes closed. She wanted to sob uncontrollably when the light adjusted to her vision, beaming into her pupils.

Because the light was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

~*~


	13. and i got swept awayyy

__

Abandon

His mouth pressed onto hers urgently, and he felt fear break out in his skin, crawling in his blood. She wouldn't die. She couldn't. He would never let her die. His hands planted firmly on her shoulders, he prodded her with his kiss, not even knowing exactly what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to kiss her, he needed to feel her lips again, and he wouldn't let her do this to herself. And then something happened that wanted to make him crumble in the floor.

She opened her eyes. Through the blood-stained strands of her hair were the amazing brown eyes that he fell in love with not too long ago, and they were shimmering with tears. She didn't want to blink, it seemed. Her mouth turned into a glorious smile that he knew would never leave his memory, not ever.

And when she looked at him and spoke his name as softly as possible, the whisper echoing in his mind, Draco's heart seemed to be fulfilled with something so unexplainable, something that reached into him and shook him, something that made his chest burn, something that made him frightened of the emotions that were mingling inside him together. 

Because she was alive, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

~*~

His hands locked with hers, entwined fingers that brushed against each other to surface only emotions known in the chest. She glanced at him worriedly, pushing a strand of silver-blonde away from his face, her smile growing tired, her eyes weary. 

"Rest," he advised her gently.

"I don't want to," Ginny protested weakly, settling into the warmth of her pillow as she observed him disdainfully. He looked exhausted, and she felt regret knowing that she had caused that exhaustion, that tired, dead look that was visible in the depths. "Stay," she tried again, trying to make her voice as audibly strong as possible.

The offer was too tempting to refuse when her features were begging him. He nodded reluctantly, touching her wrinkles with the tips of his fingers, her hair tangled in between his fingers as he watched her fall asleep, her eyelids closed, a smile erupting in her lips seconds before she fell into deep slumber.

~*~

His heartbeat was slowly faltering, the twitch in his lips turning into a sardonic uplift that touched the corners of his mouth. He was living on the floor, struggling with his soul, the scream urging itself upward her throat. He couldn't stand the imprisonment, he was reliving memories that he could only regret. He was unconscious with a solid state washing over him like steel, the tears struggling in frustration to taint his cheeks, the tremble of his body shaking, crossing, dying on this bed. His pulse was rendering like a beatless hollow, his fingers were wrung like a surrendered leaf that had coiled far beyond it's natured reach.

He was going to die. After all these years of loving someone so preciously, he was going to die. He hadn't done anything wrong except kept her to herself, and there was nothing, nothing that was wrong about that, was there? He was innocent. He was truly, truly innocent. If he wasn't innocent, what else would he be? His legs ran over each other, fighting to take over embrace of his movement, his eyelids fluttering but never opening. He was drowning in darkness that caused him severe pain - severe pain that was the truth, similar to wings it flew in front of his eyes as he pulled out his hand enviously, wanting to reach it, wanting to touch it, wanting to bruise the thing that could give him his only sanity. He touched it. With the tips of his fingers, the soft feathers threatened to unfurl against his very fingernails, to unseal what was real once and for all.

But then a small murmur awoke him, the truth was vanishing away into many blocks of black ice, dissolving into something he would only see when he died.

His eyes opened, seeking their only escape from the horrific state, pondering the edges of his blurred vision. He saw a girl crouched over at the chair beside him, the familiar waver of her auburn hair tucked behind her ears neatly, her small gown fitting her securely around the waist but loosely around the loop of her neck. He would never know the truth. It was right there, in front of him, evidence of his addiction, evidence of his insanity, and he had thrown it away, he had thrown it away, just to wake up with her next to him, recovered.

"Ginny," Devon whispered, his hand outstretched to touch his beautiful doll, his beautiful addiction, his beautiful, pure, nothing --

But after a faint glimpse of her smile, he saw tears crawling at the outline of her mouth --

and she vanished. Devon fell into sleep, dizziness caressing his face. He wondered vaguely before he fell if she had ever been real.

~*~

Loss of sanity is loss of contact. You can't see anybody else except yourself when you're in that one moment where you're about to slash somebody's head off. There's your heart beating in your head, there's your pulse quickening like seconds that roll by in turmoil. You'll never understand this answer until you try to keep it inside. When you keep it inside it sizzles like a mass of blood that refuses to burst, and it grows larger, and larger, like a bubble that never pops. But when you stick a fingertip inside, it grows into the fingertip almost as if it were rubber, crowding your skin as if it were thick, black liquid that seems to quietly stream across your nail and into the middle of your palm - and then, everything stops.

Everything stops. There's no motion, no sound, no anything until that black liquid is rejoiced into your mouth once more, rinsing your throat with it's traumatic charisma. It tastes colorless, emotionless, until you swallow, and it seems as if you're swallowing your own tongue, your saliva is dripping across your stomach, it's an ocean, it's a flood, almost as if it were water, but it's not, because just as everything seems to get peaceful, it burns inside once more, eating away at your intestines, eating away at your tiny little bones.

Ginny was addicted to pain. 

It was just the way it was supposed to be. Pain that fed her, pain that loved her, pain that surrounded her and suffocated her until she would break. She wanted to be hurt by Devon, to be hurt by Draco, because if she didn't, it wasn't real. Something this good, something so amazing as love couldn't be real - it had to painful, it just had to. Agonizing, she always thought life was agonizing. And yet, there was pain to touch her. What if she had no pain anymore?

She needed a new supply of pain, something, a needle, to sting into her flesh and disripute the unlikely, angry, hollow, and sad blood that was pain. It had to run through her viens because if it didn't, her heart would stop any second. Addiction, addiction, addiction.

Her supply had run out.

Addiction, addiction, addiction, her mind sang mockingly at her.

Her life was beginning to feel florescent, too much light that touched her eyes. She needed darkness. What ever would happen without the darkness?

She needed more pain. More, more, more. Just a little more supply. It couldn't hurt. She settled herself to the warmth of her pillow and let her eardrums drown into it's sound, let her nostrils flare into the fragrances, let her body become limp, and forced herself not to curl her body in a huddling position. She relived the memories, the truth, and the senses. The raping, the suffering, the torturing. She was five, and Ron had eaten her birthday cake. She was ten, and everybody wore new clothes but her. She was eleven, and Harry had saved her. She was fourteen, and Harry acted as if she was a child. She was eighteen, and she had scowled particularly foully at a silver-haired boy. She was nineteen...

A smile faltered slightly against her lips as she relaxed into the embarrassment, the anger, the sadness, the love, the hate all at once, droning inside her mind, repeating itself...she was crawling, crawling in the bloodshed that was her most favorable, most morbid drug that was intoxication - pain.

__

Addiction, addiction, addiction.

~*~

Oh, how sadistic his world could be. In his arms was the girl he had thought nothing but about, and yet a frightening sensation was a snake, slithering across the holes of his burned heart. He pushed the strands of her hair away, wishing for her to awake, but she didn't. She lay still and hopeless, stiff and calm, as if she would never feel anything ever again. His fingers burned in it's usual tingling as he touched the light skin of her midriff through the robe, a sardonic uplift of his mouth erupting at his lips. He wondered how it would feel to touch every piece of her skin, pleasure her, make love to her, caress her body with his. It seemed almost impossible to even think about, although the vivid images were forcing themselves to flash through his mind. Her hair was tickling his nose slightly. He gave a soft sigh against her neck, his breath hovering amongst the air, as swerved as cracked glass.

"I am addicted," Ginny muttered underneath her breath as her body wavered to the left, pressing against him. He didn't question her.

He didn't dare. Instead, he buried his face into her hair, enjoying the pricking in his wrists that indicated something he never thought he would be - it was more than bliss.

It was happiness.

"Me too," Draco agreed, his eyes closed, her strands still cascading across his closed eyelids.

~*~

Hermione took several drinks from her coffee before saying a word and choking instantly. "You're who, now?"

The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat, finally regaining her posture and leaning over on the table, her fingers grazing her chin. "Dina. Mother of Draco Malfoy?" She waved her hand compulsively, as if saying 'hello,' in a long, drawling voice, showing the small gold band placed on her finger, glimmering it's tiny white gem.

"No, no," Harry protested, still in disbelief that he was in reality as his fists clenched underneath the table, with only Draco's expression to subdue him to amusement if he had heard this ludicrous statement of hers.. "Narcissa Malfoy is the wife of Lucius Malfoy. Therefore, Narcissa is the mother of Draco Malfoy." He stared at her intensely, as if pondering the doubts of her fully intact sanity.

She blinked. "Lucius married? Again?" Her cool, calm and collected series seemed to be over abruptly. Taking a swift puff of her cigarette, she drew her eyes around anyone but the two people sitting across from her on the dining table, her bottom lip trembling. "I see," she said, clearing her throat slightly. "Well...be that as it may. I think I am entitled to find my own son."

"Your son," echoed Hermione in a dull, dead-prone voice.

Dina nodded eagerly, her eyes glittering once more before whispering in a soft voice that came out in a unintentional hiss, "I've heard about it. It's in the papers."

"Papers." Harry stared at her, his boring into hers. Such a fancy-dressed, skimpy, but glamorous woman with glitter spaced on her eyelids, her breath carrying the stifling fragrance that was an unpleasant smell of smoke was telling him that Malfoy was her son.

And although this was not significant in the particular factor, Harry found it quite shocking that she was a redhead.

"Yes," she responded hurriedly, her eyes running over his face, skimming his features. "Yes. It's not a feature story, but the fact that Devon and Draco are both in St. Mungo's is a large gossip-drawing article. Oh, and that Weasley girl, of course," she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively in the air, gesturing in it. "But that's not important. Everyone wants to know what happened. I mean, how can two - oh, alright," she corrected after recieving a firm glare on Harry's part, "Three people could end up in St. Mungo's at the same day, same setting, same time. And I came to town to find out what's going on. Mindy told me very little at home."

"You know Mindy?" Harry interrupted promptly. "How?"

"That's not important," Hermione said in a strangled voice. "Miss...err, will you please please excuse us?"

"Of course," Dina said hastily, her feet now placing themselves on the table as she leaned back, her eyes closed. "Talk all you want."

Hermione was about to say angrily that this was not what she meant, but Harry grabbed her arm, and fortunately, they were able to reach in quiet agreement to hover amongst the cabinets and face each other, not talking for countless moments.

"What?" Harry finally said, with a dumbfounded expression.

"What?" Hermione repeated in explosion. "What?! Is that all you can say, Harry? This woman is claiming to be Ginny's boyfriend's -" she motioned in the air frantically. "Well, you know! Mother!" Her body was wracking in both fury and puzzlement.

"Draco's not Ginny's boyfriend," Harry merely replied. 

"That - so - not - point," Hermione sputtered between gritted teeth. "Look at her!" 

So Harry looked, and observed the lady that was visible thirty feet away, now chewing on the white length of her cigarette, then looked back at Hermione, who's sweat-stained hair was strewn over her face.

"Well, she's a redhead," Harry finally observed.

"Argh!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration and in relent. "Harry, can't you for once have an intelligent conversation - for once!"

"Are you calling me not intelligent?" Harry asked in a pained voice.

"It's not called 'not intelligent'. It's called 'are you saying I lack intelligence', at least say that," Hermione said curtly, her bottom lip curling in distaste. "Harry? Are you even listening?"

"She's a redhead," he murmured aimlessly.

"My God..." Hermione said, burying her face in her hands, twirling the brown strands at her fingers. "Harry! What do we do now?"

"Kiss?" Harry suggested keenly, the words rolling off his tongue without any thought traveling through his mind beforehand. He scolded himself, grimacing. 

Hermione looked up, outraged. "_What_?"

"I said - err, lisp?" he tried meekly. "'Mione, why don't you go up to Ginny's room, write to your parents, and rest. I'll take care of this."

"You will?" Her eyes brightened quickly. "Thanks," she said, relieved. "But don't do anything stupid."

"Have I ever?" Harry tried to reassure her, and himself.

Hermione stared at him blankly for a few seconds before replying, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

He shook his head in defeat after thought of that particular question, and too many unfortunate memories filled his mind. She took two glances at him and Dina before retreating back to the living room, and he could hear her footsteps fade and falter ever so slowly within minutes.

"So," Dina said coyly, rising from her chair, the cigarette falling from her hand and crumbling on the floor like a small tissue staining the tiles of the floor. "Now that we're alone..." she waved her fingers, as if they were itching to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, a small smirk produced on her lips, lopsided but sly. Her pale skin was now flushed with red from eagerness.

Cunning. Glamorous, she seemed as she stepped on the cigarette with the heel of her shoes, raising a suggestive eyebrow at the youthful boy that was approximately twenty years younger.

"Oh, yes," muttered Harry underneath her breath. "She might be a redhead...but she's _definitely_ a Malfoy."

~*~

Ginny appeared to be altering her clothes when he awoke, leaning on his elbow, gazing fixedly upwards at her. She almost seemed to be glowing along with the fresh, new evening that beamed amongst them. Her brown eyes shining with purity, her body moving along many layers of fabric as she twirled a piece of hair that encircled her finger playfully, looking back at the reflection of a hand mirror. The clothes that fit her slender body were recognized instantly by Draco as a long-sleeved turtleneck the color of faint lavender and nuzzled around her waist securely, along with a long black skirt that reached to her knees, wavering against her kneecaps. She turned to him and with a look that identified the fact she was startled, a small blush brushed against her cheeks. "Oh," she said offhandedly. "You're awake."

"And you're beautiful," Draco managed to stammer out, and immediately regretted it as the thumps of his chest increased their pace. What right did he have to get sentimental all of a sudden? She's a Weasley, he reminded himself bitterly, but found that he did not care anymore. He liked when she wrinkled her nose, shifted her body uncomfortably, when her shoulders shook with fury, and most of all, her gorgeous hair, and her annoying habit to chew on the strands every so often because she was nervous. And of course, her laugh. It was the most incredibly exquisite sound he had ever heard in his life, natural and throaty. As soon as he had started to concentrate on the little things, he found it very difficult to restrain himself from the emotions surrounding him. His chest burned whenever she was near, and he began observing her features more frequently, her motions, the twist of her lips or the red tips of her ears. He felt a tingling sensation whenever she touched him, kissed him, or grazed him tenderly. He wanted to suffocate into her, into her warmth, hold her down and make sweet love to her, wanted his lips to linger in her skin and burn marks into her flesh so she would never forget him. A pain clutched itself in his stomach at the thought of losing her. It's not going to happen, he told himself. You already almost lost her once, you're not going to spoil this again. Screw everything else, he advised himself.

"Draco?" Ginny said tentatively. "Why aren't you blinking?" she asked curiously, inclining her head. He found it very intoxicating that her hair brushing against the sleeve of her sweater and seemed to be lost in light pink.

"Oh, I am not?" Draco questioned carelessly. "Oh, well. Are you feeling better?"

She nodded carefully. "My head aches a little, and so does my throat, but I can get over it. How about you?"

"I am feeling a lot better," he told her in a suggestive tone, his eyes glued to the lower regions below her neck.

"Draco," she said in a warning tone. "Listen, Mum's going to pick us up this afternoon, she and Dad are sorting things out, they're trying to ignore the Daily Prophet, it's all in the papers--"

"_Your_ mother is going to pick me up?" Draco looked unseeingly doubtful.

"Well, yes," Ginny murmured. "Unless..."

"Unless?" Draco prodded.

"Unless you don't want to come home with us. I could just as easily owl_ your _mother..." Ginny bit her tongue quickly at the outraged look spreading over the silver-blonde's face.

"Yeah, sure," he sputtered. 

The particular word _mother_ drew her back into attention. Gulping down repression, she opened her mouth to speak - but found she couldn't. She couldn't ruin his happiness, he seemed vaguely joyful all of a sudden, and she didn't want to be the cause if it ever ruined. "So," she forced herself to say, plastering a false smile to her face. "We still have a little time before Dad signs the papers. What do you want to do?"

"Well, what do _you_ want to do?" Draco said teasingly, sitting upright in bed, his arms outstretched as he allowed himself a small yawn. "Well?"

"Well..." she whispered, nearing toward him as she placed the hand mirror clumsily at the chair beside his bed. "Perhaps we could..."

"Talk?" he raised an eyebrow that clearly told her he did not want to talk at this specific moment.

"Or maybe...something else," Ginny said dreamily, her footsteps growing closer. When she reached a one foot limit of him, she leaned over, her hands pressing down to the sides of the bed, her forehead brushing against his. He felt a tingling sensation rise as his eyes locked with the heart-shaped locket dangling across her chest. "Like..."

"Kiss," Draco said at once. Ginny's eyes locked with his for several moments before their lips met and captured one another. The tenderness filled them both like an overcoming yearning that longed into their bodies. He pressed himself more roughly against her murmuring in sweet mirth at the feel of her hips against his, but she did not give in easily to his physical contact. Instead, she teased him with her lips, letting them edge at the side of his mouths before meeting the center of it, letting her breath brush his chin slightly, their lips barely touching now, the only other thing he felt was her hand gently on his shoulder, as if not to rush things, which annoyed him greatly. He groaned in disapproval, softly, but loud enough for her to hear it, and watched her smile, hair hanging at the side of her face. He would've loved to make her laugh and hear his beloved sound, but found his hands doing more interesting things, like sliding up her sweater...

"No," she found herself saying. "I _just_ put that on."

"I won't tear it," he said in a small, promising voice. "_Please_? Just let me take it off a little."

"Draco," she said in an exasperated tone, trying to refrain from crying out. How had allowing herself to his touch felt so good before? His fingers were fumbling with the hemline of his skirt now, and the burning vibes that ran through her legs, but she ignored it warily. "Draco, I've got to tell you something."

"What is it?" A look of vague concern fell over his face and his hands hesitantly wandered away from her skirt, his hands placed firmly on the blankets strewn over the bedspread at the back of him. 

She spoke, her voice coming out dry as she tugged her sweater down, concealing the exposed parts of her stomach. Her range growing unsteadily, she swallowed before speaking again quickly, hearing the door swing open faintly in the background, but ignored it. This was the time. She had to tell him now. If she didn't, who would? "It's about your mother."

"Too right it is," said a familiar voice from behind them. 

~*~

It was Hermione, who looked as if she had just gotten out of bed. Her clothes crumbled and wrinkled slightly, her hair mussed, her cheeks flushed, dark circles emmitted under her eyelids, her lips dry and chapped, looking massive in a furry overcoat with her hair swept off her shoulders in a messy but bouncy ponytail. "Ginny," she greeted with a small smile, avoiding Draco's inquiring eyes. "Ready to go?" she asked, inclining her head timidly at the redhead.

"Where's my --" Ginny prompted at once, thinking of her father.

"They're occupied at home, sorry," Hermione said a bit breathlessly without letting her finish the question quickly enough, referring to Ginny's parents. "I was told to pick you up. That is alright, isn't it?" she asked in a suspicious tone, glancing at Draco pointedly. "Was I interrupting something...?" she suggested, the corners of her mouth threatening to uplift sarcastically.

"No!" Ginny responded, flustered. "No, of course not. Draco and I were just...talking," she lied, waving her hand dismissively.

"Talking," Hermione said, nodding, even though doubt flashed through her eyes, mingled with amusement. "Talking with his legs open and you leaning over him?" she hissed in an undertone so the ludicrous statement only reached her eardrums.

Almost at once, Ginny's already pink cheeks began to increase it's pace into the color of fresh amber sprinkling over her skin. "Let's go, shall we? Oh, wait!" she turned around to gaze apologetically at Draco. "I forgot. Draco, we'll wait until you change."

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione prompted eagerly. "Draco's not going to the Burrow with us."

"Excuse me?" Ginny's head snapped around, her hair fluttering over her eyes. "He's_ not _what?" she sputtered in outrage. Something that tasted like both vomit and fear began to spread throughout her tongue as she said this. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her hands shaking every so often, the auburn left in her skin went pale, and every freckle seemed to reduce it's size to a miniscule particle. "He's not going with us?"

"No, he's not," Hermione retorted curtly. "Now get your stuff."

"No," Ginny protested. "I am not leaving him here."

"Ginny, it's okay," Draco's voice said from behind her. "I don't have to go to the Burrow."

"It's not okay," Ginny's voice faltering softly. "It's not okay at all. He's going to come with us. What's going on here? Is it Mum or Dad? Because I am sure they'll let him stay for at least one more day. Is it Ron?" she guessed, her shoulders shaking with fury. "I knew it! It's Ron, isn't it? Well you can tell him I am not ever, going to give him his teddy bear ever again if I find it one more time stashed in the living room hallway closet, tell him --"

"Ginny!" Hermione interrupted, with a voice of concern for her sanity, as she was droning on, her face colorless, her voice with infuriation audible. "It's not that. Draco's going to be picked up and registered home with somebody else."

"Who?" Ginny challenged, tugging at her skirt uncomfortably. "Who?"

"It's none of your concern," Hermione replied sternly. "Will you please go to the front desk and ask for your stuff?"

"Who is it?" Ginny pried. "Who?" A girlfriend? a portion of her mind suggested in a small voice. No, she thought back. Not a girlfriend...no, that can't be it! she thought helplessly.

"Ginny!" Hermione said in an exasperated tone as she saw the terror erupting into Ginny's features. "Do what I said!"

Ginny eyed her beadily with a dangerous smile that clearly said, 'fine, but I'll get you for this,' and with a furious black glance, and a grasp of her hand mirror, she said not another word and walked out of the door, slamming the door behind her.

"Who's picking me up? Father?" Draco quipped after she had gone.

Hermione gazed at him for several moments before shaking her head from side to side hesitantly. "Not your father."

"My mother, then?" he drawled in bored disapproval.

Hermione bit her lip vigorously before answering. "You could say that."

"What's going on, Granger?" Draco asked, a puzzled expression pouring over his face.

"Draco..." she started to say, but the door swung open once more, and another redhead announced her arrival by the clunky footsteps of her long-heels, revealing slowly slim hips, a slender body, her heaving chest, long neck and graceful face, her gray eyes sparkling through the mane of her red-flamed hair, the red dress fitting around her every curve, every piece of her tall length as her shoulders shrugged recklessly.

"I am sorry I am late," Dina said hastily, brushing a piece of hair across her temples.

~*~

"What's going on here?" Ginny demanded furiously as she entered the Burrow. The familiar scent hovered beneath her nostrils, the fragrance of oak and the smell of Weasleys, refreshing and scented like soap and water mingled together. She settled back into the warmth of the place, and felt a smile crawl into her mouth. She was home. She was home once more to the lopsided 'castle' that was small and cozy and would always be the most safe haven she could think of, excluding Hogwarts, the school she used to attend many years ago, of course.

"Ginny, dear! Oh, I am glad you're home!" her mother greeted from the kitchen with a joyful wave. But something was wrong with the smile plastered on her face. Ginny knew it was a false, weary smile, the smile she wore when she used to pick up supplies for a new school year and only had three galleons to spare. It was a frightened expression in the old, plump but timid face and beyond her wrinkles. "Ah, Hermione. I left letters from your parents in the bedroom," she notified the brunette who gave her a thankful nod and rushed past her, and soon footsteps were to be heard walking upstairs. Mrs. Weasley faced Ginny at last, and Ginny was startled to see that her eyes glinted with liquid. She stammered slightly, murmuring under her breath as she brushing them away with the egde of her apron before returning to gaze at her only daughter.

"It's just sad," she told her, her voice dreamy and hopeless. "He was a terrible man, always horrible to your father, and of course, I even thought nastily about him getting fired off the Ministry, I thought the conflict on him would stand after what happened with Harry at fifteen, but think of how his son will react to the news."

"What?" Ginny raised her eyebrows in bewilderment, worrying for her mother's lack of sanity at this particularly strange moment. "Mother? Are you ...feeling good?"

"I am feeling - sympathetic, I suppose you could say, Ginny. It doesn't concern me, but I wonder where he will go," she said in wonderment as she turned her back to her daughter and stirred the contents in the stove boiling on fire. Ginny knew there was something wrong. For one thing, her mother usually tended to magic to cook, and for another thing, her apron was down to her knees, a place where Molly Weasley would certainly not dispose of the cooking fabric. It was usually tied around her neck professionally and hanging against her stomach, fluttering every so often. Ginny noticed with a pitiful glance that her mother had lost weight in her face, and her freckles were becoming colorless. However, the weight seemed to now go onto her stomach and her legs, which were now a bit more plumper than she had seen.

"Mother, who are you talking about?" Ginny asked, her bottom lip trembling slightly in amusement at a sudden thought that rushed through her mind. She ignored it, even though it seemed catastrophically impossible. No, she told herself firmly.

"Draco - I think that's his name, the homeless boy?" Mrs. Weasley prompted, tasting the blurry stream of colors in her spoon and making a disgusted face at once. She turned around and wiped the perspiration off of her neck, shoulders and forehead before sitting down, the apron still tangled within her legs.

"He's not homeless, mother," Ginny responded, a laugh catching in her throat. "His father kicked him out."

"Well, unfortunately, he will not follow his father's orders anymore," Mrs. Weasley murmured, shaking her head in disapproval. "Ginny, I am feeling a sick. Would you be a dear and cook dinner? Fred and George are coming over from their new place to see how you're doing. Oh! God, I almost forgot. How, are you doing, Ginny dear?" she asked kindly, inclining her head tiredly at her.

Ginny pushing the locks of red away from her face and gazed at her mother fixtedly before retorting, "I am feeling good, mother. Good."

"That's, that's good," Mrs. Weasley said, her words catching in the middle of a yawn. "Well, I shall take a nap." And with that, she concentrated fondly on the floor and didn't notice the apron still clinging to her feet, wavering across the floor tiles as she walked.

~*~

Dinner was scheduled promptly at eight o'clock. Ginny spent the rest of her afternoon cooking and cleaning the skin until every face could be seen on the silverware, until every palm could be addressed and reflected on the forks and spoons, until the knives were sheer and shiny and dripping with water and dried with the edge of a paper towel or handed to Hermione to brush her wand against and murmur a quick incantation under her breath. Mrs. Weasley tended to herself upstairs, Mr. Weasley was up with her, Hermione, Harry, and Ron beadily eyed each other uncomfortably at the table, every so often peering at their cleaned empty plates, awaiting anything to occupy their spaces.

"So," Hermione quipped, her hair falling loose around her neck, only strands from her ponytail that was now disoriented in a fashion that fell over her sides. "Ron, when --"

"Can we please not talk?" Ron interrupted angrily, his fists clenching underneath the table. The usually pale, freckled face was now filled with fury in it's features, as well as a fair portion of red.

"What's with you?" Hermione inquired, her voice injured and curious.

"Nothing._ I'll _be upstairs," the redhead replied hastily, not even bothering to push in his chair as he walked clumsily through the kitchen. His footsteps faded away and were heard by the creaking of the bottom stairs as he ran upwards.

"_Seriously_, what's wrong?" she asked, turning her head to Harry, who didn't look the slightest bewildered, but disappointed. Harry glanced over at Ginny cautiously before lowering his voice and leaning his face forward so that his words were whispered and barely audible in her eardrums -

"He found the letter." Harry poised backwards into his chair, his legs raised slightly onto the table, satisfied with that answer. Hermione stared at him blankly.

"Letter?" she asked in wonderment, raising an eyebrow at Harry before sipping her glass of water prestigiously, the liquid chilling her throat. 

"Yes. It was from Devon, old and battered. The snow melted a while ago, and Ron found it when he came home on the doorstep." He shook his head in disapproval. 

"This is not making any sense!" Hermione hissed, wrinkling her nose in puzzlement. "I was the one that threw the letter in the snow, but why would Ron be angry about it?"

Harry gave a roll of his shoulders, identifying a shrug. "He was probably angry because of what it said?" he suggested. 

"What did it say?" Hermione murmured under her breath as Ginny turned her head and smiled at them before she began making circular motions with her wand over her steaming pot that had the sweet fragrance of apple cider erupting across from it in steamy foams. 

Harry bit his lip before answering, his eyes alarmed, as if he had just thought of a particular fact. "I don't know," he retorted softly, the whisper echoing througout the atmosphere like a red gash through the white, invisible air. 

~*~

Draco had never felt like ice before. It was a peculiar sensation that trickled into his spine when his eyes locked with hers, and that emotion, that feeling, that thought -- _her eyes are just like mine_, he had thought, in an oblivious daze that transfixed his limbs and broke his body. "Hello," he drawled in a greeting, feeling his joints being too far burned for him to wriggle and settle into the warmth of his bed. "Who - I am sorry, who are you?"

The fact that he was being polite to her, the fact that her eyes brightened the moment she saw him and the fact that she grew breathless, looking alive, red blushing on her cheeks, curls in a craze that enveloped her face snugly within it's many strands, flowering down under her arms. "I am..." she wrung her hands, surrendering them to him. He found himself reaching for them, and not even knowing it. In midair he caught himself, withdrawing sharply and profusely disturbed. If this was a stranger, then how come it felt as if she was his blood, that somehow managed to rush out of his bloodstream and splatter onto the floor before him and transform into a human-sized person that could smile and make her eyes sparkle and make him melt.

"Well," she started again, straightening the dress that hugged her slender body, "I am Dina."

Now that Hermione had left the room it felt as if a million winds were forcing past him. "Dina?" he echoed blankly, with no reassurance of recgonization. "And why, exactly are you picking me up? Dina?" he added after an afterthought. 

"Oh," Dina said, flustered, as if the question was not supposed to, not allowed to be asked, and would never be answered. Her voice was hoarse, but quiet all the same, deep but low, something indescribable, something supernatural, the way he couldn't describe the way he felt around Ginny. This seemed just like her voice. "Well. It's getting late," she said, avoiding the question abruptly. "And I really need to get you to the registration check-out. Can we - can we talk about this later? When you've dressed?" she nodded pointedly at his robe and he laughed nervously. The laugh came like vomit, clear and unwashed, pure but not real.

"I suppose," he told her hesitantly. "Can you leave the room?"

"Of course," Dina replied, her voice filled with relief as if she had been waiting to be asked to leave all this time. "Take your time."

With a wave of the end of her dress sprinting across her pale but slightly freckled skin, she walked, her heels making massive ringings of apprehension as she shut the door behind her. 

It echoed throughout the whole room and mocked Draco's eardrums, asking them to bleed.

~*~

Pleading. It was the only thing to get what she wanted. What Ginny wanted was her life back. But whatever she did to try to regain her composure, she found herself losing it. As she asked Hermione to finish setting the dinner table, she grasped a small bottle of firewhiskey and walked up to her bedroom until she collapsed on the bed, exhaustion filling her like a million different types of water splashing the truth over her cheekbones, grazing them, trickling down her skin. She drank until her pulse seemed to falter, she drank until her heart ran cold, and her blood went into a violent shade of blue. There was no mistaking it. She was losing it.

And worst of all, Draco wasn't there. Draco wasn't there to console her, hold her, tease her or even argue with her. It gave her a gentle relief whenever Draco was around, smirking arrogantly or flaunting his egoticstical pride, or having his skin brush against hers. She needed him to make the pain lessen, or worse, she needed him to fill the pain until it became absolutely, tolentery blissful. The bittersweet taste dissolved into her tongue and lingered at the tip of her tongue, waiting to plunge forward. She couldn't understand the world anymore, couldn't distinguish her emotions. Several times Devon had pinned her down and had his way with her, pushing against her forcefully, making her whimper, making her bleed, making her scream. The memories flooded back but she couldn't reach them, because if she did, it would be far too much.

Just _too_ much.

Do you know what pain is? she wanted to ask people, she wanted to tell them what real pain was. Real pain was this. Pain wasn't getting over your thirty-sixth boyfriend even though you're so beautiful you'll find a new one soon. Pain wasn't losing one of your sixty thousand friends and forgetting them after a week. Pain wasn't that. It was something like breaking, something like thrashing, numbing, crashing. It wasn't getting angry over a silly tease or a joke. It wasn't. Pain was being ridiculed everyday, pain was tearing yourself outside but keeping your features invisible. Pain was taking all that shit and keeping it inside into a little box in your heart and wishing you could never open that and go through the files. Pain was when you knew you didn't want this to happen, but it was fate, and if it didn't happen, then you wouldn't have your strength. You're more stronger than you'll ever know, Ginny told herself firmly, chewing on the strand of hair that kept falling over her eyes. The tears never came, however. It would take more than firewhisky to get all the anguish, the distrust, the hatred out of her. And she wasn't even sure if she was ready to let it go.

She fell asleep, her legs parted slightly, her arms side to side. But at least she wasn't curled onto herself helplessly, the memories cracking within her skull under the pillow, concealed, hidden, needing her own security.

~*~

His heart dropped to the ground. It was a strange feeling of loss, the weight raising in his chest.

His robe dropped to the ground. He felt bare, naked.

Maybe it was because he_ really was_.

He dressed slowly. His pants brushing against his legs, his kneecaps, his slender hips and closing the zipper aimlessly. His fingertips fluttered across the grasp of the opening, as if asking what to do next, and his mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. It was just - her eyes. Her gray, glowering eyes. They were just like his.

Not like his mother's, Narcissa's. She had eyes that were tinted slight blue, not gray. 

But this - this woman. She was anonymous, unmarked, unknown. But if she was unmarked, how come she could feel hovering between them, the connection - how come his heart caught in his throat, similar to the reaction he had to Ginny, except this feeling was nothing, nothing. Pure. Simple. Blunt. He didn't know anything anymore.

Maybe because there _was nothing else to know._

His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

~*~

Ginny felt herself rising awake from the familiar shake of her shoulders as she opened her eyes. For a moment - even for the half of a second, she knew, that she was back in the past, sixteen, and her brother was waking her for sleeping over late on the day back to Hogwarts. Her hair would be frizzy and unclean, pouring over her face, and she would scowl at her brother for fifteen minutes for actually wake her from the sweet, unconscious death she had been enjoying. 

"Get up, Gin!" Ron's voice would reach her eardrums in an unpleasantly expanded manner.

"Shut up," she would grumble underneath her breath. 

Ron would tackle with her for several moments afterwards until she rose from bed, and she remembered one particularly amusing memory of how she kicked him one day when he wasn't expecting it, and he had to go to Hogwarts with a nosebleed until Hermione reluctantly agreed to mend it with a swish and flick of her wand.

But this time, it was Ron. Ron, who was older, and his features were not of joy or of happiness. He looked sullen, solid. She half-rose from her bed upright forcing a smile onto her face.

"Hey," she said sleepily. "What is it?"

Ron started to speak, but his lips seemed wordless.

"Don't tell me it's about your teddy bear," she said, faking exasperation. "How many times do I have to suffer about your teddy bear?"

Ron offered her a humorless smile and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He appeared to be searching for something, and when slight victory glinted his eyes, he handed it to her. She took it curiously. 

"It's for you," he told her, in a slightly provoking voice.

It was several pieces of parchment, elegantly written in sloppy but endearing cursive. She needn't to crease the folds to know whose handwriting it was. Raising her head, she was unnerved to see that Ron had walked away from her bed and was now approaching the door. Barely managing an acknowledgement of dinner leftovers downstairs, he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Ginny returned her attention to the letter, separating any sticky substance in between them, or pieces of flawless grass. She pulled it to her eyes and let them peer at the words, let them distinguish them. It was something she had never read before. It was half a letter, half a poem. The tears burning in her eyes refused to drop any time soon. She read it over and over until time seemed to stop, until every movement went rigid, and until every breath she breathed seemed to stand still. 

~*~

Draco couldn't speak. Any sarcasm, ridiculing insult had rushed out of his mind and wandered elsewhere. He was beside her, not speaking, turning to look at her eyes every so often. She didn't seem to mind, but was shifting uncomfortably as she walked. Their footsteps colliding both sounds with each other, Draco found himself taking sharp breaths without knowing. He didn't know what to think; he didn't know what to say or to do. His mind pondered on Ginny, where she was, how she was doing, and wondering if she was thinking about him at this particularly peculiar moment. Countless minutes passed by when the woman stopped walking and turned her head. It was remarkable the portion of resemblance her hair had to Ginny's - it poured over her face, but this woman had obviously had experience with it far too many times to let it bother her - she merely pushed it away recklessly. 

"Draco," she spoke, her voice trembling slightly.

"Who are you?" he asked promptly, finding an escape of his lips.

The woman recollected herself as her arms went protectively over her chest. With a hesitant look, she cleared her throat and spoke once more, this time her voice solid, and when she spoke the words she spoke, he felt himself rise in ease, felt himself being drifted away and never coming back. "I am - I am your mother."

Draco found his voice. "Oh." That single word rung throughout his eardrums and hovered beyond his lips, wishing to go away, wishing to float away. He wondered if he should leave it behind, but he didn't know how. And he didn't know what to leave behind. He was expecting it - he felt as if the words dissolving in his brain were not the words she had spoken. He gave her a calculating look before drawing his eyes away, far away where nobody else could see.

Her lips separated, parting in surprise, her eyes glittering still. "You're - you're not shocked," she said bluntly.

Draco didn't respond at first. His body was numb and discharged, indescribable. He could see blurs in his vision, black at his hearing. He was fifteen again, and he was in his father's study, or what used to be his. He was murmuring to himself lightly, he was scribbling on a piece of parchment, writing a letter to his father of all the things he had done wrong, although he knew it would never reach him in Azkaban. He wrote of all the things he hated about him, how he thought the surname Malfoy was supposed to define something - something, he didn't know what, but something to listeners, how he felt the need to punish him every time he was displeased, how he hated him. But then at the end, it seemed as if the letter was going offhand. His hand was writing but his brain was controlling it. At the end, he wrote that he didn't mean that he hated him - because if he hated him, he would hate himself as well. That yearning sensation was burning in his chest again as the memory faded away, slightly distraught. The yearning to be in the Burrow again, even to have Ron wake him up and use profanity while doing so. It was lingering at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken for a million eternities. If there was such a thing called eternity, Draco wanted to be cleaned, rinsed and suffocated into it.

"The Burrow," he let himself whisper. He allowed his mouth to say it. He allowed it completely. 

The woman - who seemed to observe him carefully before answering, nodded as if she understood. But nobody would ever understand it - the burning sensation spreading throughout his tongue, nuzzling his chest. He wanted to be back to the Burrow, near Ginny, fight with Ron, tease Harry - it was all coming back again.

He could never leave it behind. It was his eyes, the only way he could see.

Perhaps it was because Draco had been blind all this time.

~*~

Ginny could not be identified. There was nothing anybody could do to rid of the pain plunging in her chest, the sorrow filling her veins. It was an empty, losing feeling. She had lost something true to her, but she could not find out what it was, or even, why it was gone. She sat for countless seconds, minutes and hours, yearning for her pain again. There was too much emptiness in her heart. She couldn't rewind, or unwind anything. Her tendrils of auburn fell over the letter, colliding with the now splattered ink from her tears.

Her tears were forsaken. There would be no more tears left, because she was burning inside, dying inside, and being ripped apart.

The letters were useless, the empty wine bottles were never invisible. She didn't know what life meant to her. Life fell from her hands as she settled into the blissful warmth of her pillow. There was nothing left to do but close her eyes and fall into a sleep in which she promised she would never rise from again.

~*~

But, of course, eventually, the vision had to be subdued once more. She rose from bed with a different determination that scared her, frightened her. But she would never get on with her life if she didn't do it. It was chilling her wrists, betraying her blood. Peeling off the clothes she had on for more than five hours, she dressed in dark robes and pulled the black hood so that it enveloped her face with pieces of fabric and concealed her hair. 

She knew where to go. She knew what she wanted. She knew how to do it.

Tucking her wand inside her left sleeve, she let her fury overtake her. It was an evil, a bittersweet evil that fulfilled her chest and controlled her mind. It was better than dissolving melted chocolate in her mouth, it was better that licking off remains of a taste she could call her favorite, it was better than that tingling sensation whenever she brushed against someone, it was better than deja vu, and could always be better than a blissful nightmare.

__

Hell, it was better than sex.

Ginny Weasley no longer wanted to be controlled by someone else, like a doll that hung limply to her side. She wanted power over someone, power that was tempting her, power that was persuading her. It was a power she had felt before but had never gave into it's lovely, red blood. She pushed the strands of hair and placed it securely behind her ears to stay put.

And she took a step.

And another.

~*~


	14. i wanted to be like you

__

Abandon

Devon turned around in a swift, precluded motion, and felt his head upturn slightly. Ever since the hospital, his reflexes had still remained daft. At first, the image before him was clearly a delusion. But when he blinked, the picture never faded away. She was standing in front of him, her shoulders shaking, but her pale face luminous in the dim light, her hood over her hair, now falling and hanging loosely off the side of her face, grazing with it's soft fabric. 

"Hello," Ginny greeted tonelessly.

"Ginny," Devon prompted, the name sliding off his tongue, rolling off of it unattractively in it's familiar drawl as he fought to hide his surprise, his shock, his fear. "What do you want?"

She gave a soft laugh. Devon had always admired her laugh, it was a sweet, natural sound, that escaped from her lips, sometimes in a giddy-like manner, sometimes in a hysterical manner, but what fit was that she didn't change it, it was always real, always true.

"You thought you could get away with this, did you?" she questioned, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Well, you thought wrong."

"Get away with _what_?" Devon echoed innocently, his features turning vaguely concerned for her sanity. "Ginny, I haven't seen you in a year."

Instead of being satisfied with anger, he received nothing less but a smile from her. And he didn't like it one bit. It was a knowing smile. Her shoulders had stopped shaking, they stiffened, but with that smile spread across her face, he knew something was going to happen - and he wouldn't know beforehand, he wouldn't be able to stop it.

"Bastard," she merely retorted.

"What are you doing here, Ginny?" he demanded once more, something unfamiliar lingering in the contents of his stomach.

"Well," Ginny said carefully, her voice dead-prone and dull as she reached into her sleeve. And in her fingers rolled her wand, which she pointed at his forehead, making circular motions with it ever so slowly, her eyes locking into hers. Her eyes were speaking to him, telling him that she had the advantage this time. He knew his heart shouldn't be racing but along with it was his quickening pulse, the shock, the memory, everything fading away around him.

She spoke, if it was possible, with a more calmed, forced clear voice. "I am here to kill you."

~*~

Draco knew something was wrong. It was in his blood, his skull, his mind as he turned the knob to Ginny's room and peered in. Nobody was there. The two beds placed half a foot beside each other were both empty, their bedspreads hanging over messily, crumbled. They were nothing but white spread over the carpet. He opened the door completely to it's extension and stepped in cautiously, whispering her name frantically.

Nobody answered. "Ginny?" he asked, his voice growing louder. "Ginny?"

Still, no response. Complete quiet. There was almost no sign of movement in the room, and there seemed no sign that there ever was. His stomach lurched almost painfully as he withdrew his hand from the knob and began to observe his surroundings. His chest was yearning for the sight of the redhead once more - he needed something familiar and petite fill it's warmth against him. On the verge of leaving, he turned swiftly, but his foot caught on one of the elements on the floor. Curiously, he leaned over and picked it up. An almost blank piece of parchment with only tiny little cursive letters at the top, obviously the only remains of a long letter.

__

And I will do anything to get my princess.

I will do anything to get you back.

Devon

Draco stuffed it carelessly in the back pocket of his jeans. He was about to look for the other pieces of this 'letter', but at that particular moment, the door swung open, and Harry's face was visible between the ledges, his mass of raven-black hair in a messy form as usual, his green eyes glowering in disappointment, and his face pouring in apprehension. 

"Malfoy!" he cried in surprise. "What are you doing here? And why's your mo- I mean, why's Dina down there?"

"She's with me," Draco merely replied curtly. He was visibly upset that Harry was present. "What're you doing here?" he asked, annoyed.

"Are you still angry about - about that?" Harry asked tentatively, pausing, referring to the 'incident' in St. Mungo's that Draco had long forgotten but was now recalling with unease.

"Yes, and the fact that you are still alive ensues anger as well," he quipped jovially with a raise of an eyebrow. "Do you know where Ginny is?"

Harry shook his head in wonderment. "No. I was coming here to look for her. Maybe she went outside," he suggested.

"Why would she do that?" Draco questioned. "You don't think he - well..." he trailed off in a concerned, suggestive tone.

Harry's lips parted wordlessly before he actually spoke, his voice audible. "No," he finally answered, a determined gleam shining in his eyes. "He wouldn't do that. Listen, could you - could you and your mother - well..." he looked distinctively uncomfortable. "Could you guys - perhaps...leave?"

"Leave?" Draco echoed in a melodramatic voice. "Are you out of your mind? Do you even think I acknowledge what's happening is even real? I don't believe she's my mother."

"Look," Harry said in a reasonable voice. "I know you have a lot of problems," he started to say, then when he saw the sliver-blonde's protest, he held a hand upwards. "But Mr. and Mrs. Weasley already have the Burrow crowded. Downstairs, Mrs. Weasley is cooking for Mindy. And Fred and George are moving back home for a while to look after Ginny."

"Mindy?" Draco exclaimed in utmost terror. "Mindy's - Mindy's _his _- _his_ ..."

"Sister," Harry finished, waving his hand dismissively. "I know that, you know that, but she doesn't know yet. And your mother is in the living room, clouding the whole place with her cigarette."

"That's not my fault!" he insisted. "I don't want to be isolated alone with her, okay? I don't even know her first name, for all I know, she could be my own father in disguise."

Harry bit his lip slightly, grimacing at the mention of Draco's father. Pity fulfilled him canonically as he hung his arms limply at his sides. His fingers wrung together behind him as he shifted back and forth, back and forth, like a doll when it cradles, rocking, waiting. 

"What?" Draco asked, inclining his head. "Why do you look like that?"

Harry shook his head. His heartbeat was racing, urging him forward, pleading for him not to wait, to tell him now, to tell him now about -- but no, it was not the time.

"Nothing," he whispered, then shook himself, recollecting his composure rather quickly. "Let's go downstairs and see what we can do to help, shall we?"

At that very moment, Harry and Draco had reached the doorway plausibly when they heard a familiar voice ringing downstairs.

"_Draco Malfoy, get down here!" _it shouted in a sing-song voice. It was a smooth, clear, low voice, with a breathy atmosphere that was it's significance.

It was Narcissa Malfoy's.  


~*~

There was a sound in her eardrums.

It rang clearly in her earlobes, refusing to go, refusing to leave.

It was the sound of fear. Fear that made her wince, fear that made her shake. It was overtaking her, evaporating her anger, her sadness, her sanity. The boy she had trusted for over a year, the boy that had kissed her gently, grasped her tendery, grazed her lovingly was standing before her, and she had her wand in front of her, ready to fight, ready for revenge, ready for murder.

Murder. The word was like a drop of realization in her stomach, threatening to break her spinal cord, to break her chest, to wrench it apart. Her blood pounded in several places, but she wasn't even sure if it was her mind or her blood. There was a symphonic rising, hovering amongst the air and tingling apprehension upon them.

Years were seconds, and hours were years. It was mindless, it was tuneless, it was careless, it was reckless.

It was pure, flawless nothing. It was a loss. It was something forgotten.

Something that never existed._ Something she never wanted to exist_.

She was crippled. She tried to back away but the force was too powerful, it was pushing her, prodding her, prying her spirit and crawling her at her skin. 

"You can't do it," he hissed in a violent voice. "You never could." His words faltered away, echoing in the distance. Echoing in the distance, where distance could never be reached. 

Her wand trembled forward and fluttered slightly in her finger at midair before it drooped over, falling to the floor with a thump as massive as the thump at her heart. She closed her eyes, and she let the tears fall at last.

Because her heart was thumping for him. The yearning, the longing, had not only been for Draco. It had been for Devon. It was seconds, in which she called years that she fell into his grasp once more, his arms entangled tightly around her, pulling her against him. She had to surrender, she couldn't fight. She could never kill someone - someone that - that. It hurt to think. It hurt to pain. It hurt to cry, it hurt to feel. 

She could never kill someone she loved.

~*~

It was last fall. The crisp, cool air that frosted the windows were neglected to be looked into that morning.

"I am not beautiful," she protested teasingly. "I know you're just saying that to get what you want."

Devon parted his lips in mock-surprise. "_I wouldn't do that_!"

She laughed. He always made her laugh hysterically, made her tip her head back and let the glorious hair graze her cheekbones, letting the choked, rasped, sounds escape from her lips. And when she laughed, he would smile with admiration, with adoration, as if she was something special, as if she consisted of something that nobody else could ever hold in their hearts.

Devon tightened his grip on her shoulders and leaned forward, his face lowering, his lips upturned into a ambitious grin. "Kiss me?" 

"Kiss you," she breathed, fluttering her eyes closed before their eyes met. It was last fall.

It was last fall when she had that feeling. That first, refreshing, terrifying, sudden emotion. She had felt it before, but this time it's intensifying charge was rushing through her like a splash of the ocean as she drowned. That emotion - she couldn't distinguish it into proper words, proper sentences. Love was not to comprehend, it was to feel, and she was feeling it with remarkable unease. Even with love, there was something mingled within, and it was called distrust.

Even when Devon's eyes met hers, locked with hers, pleaded with hers, caressing his pupils with pure love, pure trust, pure wisdom, telling her that they loved her - there was still something beyond his features, his eyes, his heart that was inside. It was invisible to her eyes, but it was real - it was black, hateful gruesome contents that were unfurling, uncoiling, never shown.

~*~

There was something else wrong. Draco could feel it, burning in his chest, recoiling from his heart. He could feel something happening, it was hovering amongst the air as he walked downstairs, drawing closer to a dream he had never seen before. Narcissa was sitting elegantly, one leg crossed with an ankle, another slim dress hugging her slender body, her pale white skin shining, her smooth, soft complexion, and the only luminous thing, once again, was her lips, which were painted bright red with lipstick that never seemed to come off, even when Narcissa slid over the remains with her tongue. She, the wife of Lucius Malfoy was dusting something off the lap portion of her dress, glancing around the small and messy kitchen. 

"Draco," she greeted, waving her hand dismissively and rising. "Finally. And who are you?" she questioned in a demanding voice. Harry cowered behind Draco slightly, grimacing as he spoke.

"Harry," he replied.

"Ah," Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Draco, did I not teach you never to stay at pig sties? That - that Moddy," she said, rolling her eyes upwards and gracefully fluttering her long, silver-blonde wisped eyelashes.

"Molly," Draco and Harry automatically corrected.

"Huh," Narcissa said in an echoing voice in a tone of distaste. "Doesn't she know how to decorate, at least? She seems to be awfully polite. As if she knew what had happened." She raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "You _didn't tell her_, did you?" her voice rose with an edge. 

Before Draco could think of an answer - the words that escaped from his mouth appeared to be quite, wordless. His lips parted and made movements but a dreaded thump dropped to her stomach and upturned, because someone else had entered the cramped, unwashed kitchen. Draco and Harry needn't the footsteps of her heels, neither the fragrance of smoke that hovered beneath their nostrils almost instantly as she came. The door shut closed as she leaned against it, one hand placed loosely on her hip, the other failingly hanging against her side with a plate left with the remains of dinner, her hair sweat-stained in auburn curls that plastered to her face. 

"Well, well, well," Dina announced mockingly, tugging at the hemline of her dress so that it grew further beyond her knees. "Narcissa, I assume?"

Narcissa gazed at her intently for several moments. "Correct. And, who, may ask are you?" she raised a perfectly-aligned eyebrow at the redheaded woman.

Dina gave her a reckless smile. It was ruthless, it was careless, and it was murderous. It wasn't a satisfied smirk or a pathetic uplift of her mouth - it was real. It made her wrinkles visible, it made her chin quiver, and it made her seem like a woman that was not, at all, actually, flawless. She made it a crime to be flawless, because there was supposed to be no such thing.

"Well," she said softly, like a murmur underneath her breath, her voice carrying with the air amongst the room in a half-regretfully thoughtless, half-amused, "I am - _the other woman_."

~*~

If there was a love that turned her heart upside-down and made her stomach swirl around, it was this love. It was a love so needy, so hateful, but yet so content. She didn't count the seconds, the minutes, the years that passed by them, the strings of hair that had loosened and now created circular movements at her shoulders. He grasped her, peeling off the fabric off her body, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensations overtake her, letting the air, the atmosphere, suffocate them. There was nothing else to do but relent, nothing else to do but regret, nothing else to do then surrender.

She surrendered. She fell to her knees, dead-prone and lifeless, surrendering. He touched her exposed skin softly, tenderly, grazing, softening, and kissing. His touch lingered everywhere as he head tipped back, her hair wavering at her bare, naked back, her lips parting wordlessly, wanting to say something, say something, describe the pain, the anger that he was causing her, describe how her heartbeat raced so many million lights that she knew she was in eternity, a place where everything vanished and everything happened. 

It was a love. She did love him. Except there was that one thing - even though he made her feel nothing like anybody else had ever made her feel, there was that one thing. Even though he turned them into a world called eternity where they would never part, there was that one thing. Even though his touches weakened her and although he filled her loss, filled it so tightly that she felt adequate in his embrace, there was that one thing.

Even though she had known him for over a year, loved him for over a year, filled the space between them always, and they had always connected, always sufficed in something that was more than magic, it was something heart-wrenching, knowingly. Because there was still that one, small thing, that raced through her mind and pentrated her vision, because there was that one thing that was wrong.

His eyes weren't gray.

And his hair wasn't silver-blonde.

That one thing -- that one, miniscule thing that broke her heart apart, tore it into pieces, scattered it around and burned into ashes, reliving once more.

He wasn't Draco.

And soft as a whisper as he pushed into her passageway, and whispered as a murmur, and murmured as a tremor --"And he never will be."

That sentence was guarded in the air and trembled into the place with vanishing vision and the million lights, where the heavens could only listen.

And somewhere where maybe, just, maybe, if Ginny listened closely enough, her eardrums could hear the answer.

It went beyond, if possible, eternity. 

~*~

"_Fight_," Harry murmured in a gleeful, sing-song voice beneath his breath. When he saw the mingled look of both disgust and outrage on Draco's face he gave him an apologetic smile, and then turned immediately to the two women who were both glaring at each other with cool, collected smiles imprinted on their face. 

"Well," Narcissa said, with a shrug of her shoulders as she stood upright, straightening the creases on her dress. "I don't know what_ you're _talking about," she told Dina in a careless, violent hiss that shook the walls apart. "But I must be going soon. I just need to talk to my son, Draco," she added bitterly.

Dina tipped her head back and gave a visibly audible laugh before she locked her gray eyes with hers. "He's not your son," she told her, the words rising above the air. There was something cold, crooked, lopsided about the way she said it, a defensive tone but in a rage of horror, anger, and distrust. "He's not your son at all."

Narcissa stammered her words. "I- I raised him!"

"I. Gave," Dina replied with a tremor in her voice, choked, as if there was a lump in her throat rising but she could not rid of it. "Fucking. Birth. To. Him."

Narcissa's face flushed, and her eyes became narrowed dangerously. 

"And you know it," she mumbled half-heartily. "So I don't see why you need to be here. I am going to have a little talk with Lucius --"

This time, it was Narcissa Malfoy's turn to laugh. She gave a laugh, a hideous, vacant laugh, with nothing fulfilled, nothing embraced, nothing embarked upon it. "Well, you can't."

"You can't," she echoed, a laugh between her mirth, and with a sorrowful imitation of Dina's, she embellished. "Because. Lucius is. Fucking. Dead."

Harry felt Draco stiffen and fall into forever, his body writhing, shaking in realization, in shock, but had no time to catch him. 

~*~

There was no answer from the heavens when Ginny awoke, her sweat-stained hair plastered thickly to her forehead, her head tucked in Devon's lap securely. He was asleep, his head rolling off into his side, his eyes closed. She could see his veins on his wrists penetrating at his skin, and had an insane urge to pin a needle through it, to taint his bloodstream apart.

How dare he do this? How dare he make her relive feelings for him again? How dare he? She sat upright, and with a patience as a virtue, she brushed the dust off her robes off, and gathered the sleeves loosely across her arms. She picked up her wand from the floor and tucked it into her pockets this time. The slow process in which she dressed more properly sent a knife to her skull, her heart, but she avoided it at all costs.

There was no choice. She loved him - she wanted to show him, that she could be strong. Strong without him, survive without his presence in her life.

That it was time to let go.

But it wasn't. Not yet.

And she wondered if there ever would be a time.

But she couldn't seem to recollect her feelings, emotions, heart-wrenching twist of thoughts right at this particular moment. She needed to see the other person that carried half of her heart in his palm and squeezed it ever so recklessly, to see which person would fill her heart most.

It frightened the hell out of her just to think about it. But there was no time to worry right now. All she needed was a decision, and this was like a waterfall freezing in slow motion, waiting to be turned over and never conceal it's waves anymore, nor ever. She needed the waterfall to splash over her, because she couldn't stand her life being frozen. She could only do what she thought would make the waterfall - well, fall. 

She was going home.

~*~

The Burrow seemed mournful, deserted, naked, and bare when she arrived in front of it. She stepped toward it cautiously, her heart racing - her pulse quickening, and the ice in her lungs melting - it was a slow process. Her footsteps took her nowhere, for they were only sound, and she could only hear sound, not feel it. When she reached to the door, before pulling it open, she knocked it softly at first.

No answer.

She thumped her fist against it loudly, a panic rising in her chest. What had happened? Why wasn't anyone answering? She thumped a bit more thunderously, her knock vicious as her heartbeat. When it swung open at last, her heart lurched, jumping into her throat.

There stood Mindy, who had equipped her body in a loose robe, with a lock of hair twirling amidst her finger, her face peeking out the surface of the door. "Ginny!" she breathed in a small, high-pitched voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," Ginny responded curtly. "Excuse me, Mindy, this is_ my _home."

"Oh..." Mindy looked startled at this, her eyes glittering. "Yes, I know, but Ginny..." she glanced around frantically behind and around her before stammering in an apologetic tone, "There's - far too many things going on here..."

"What things?" Ginny prompted, interrupting instantly, gulping down the lump rising in her throat. "What's going on? Let me in." Her features grew angry. "Now!" she demanded.

"Oh, oh," Mindy murmured under her breath as she stepped aside, with the door open for the redhead. Ginny stepped it with a suspicion laying upon her spine as she gazed intently around the insides of the Burrow. It seemed the same - except there was something different.

Because for once in a lifetime, the Burrow was quiet.

Shunting a doubtful-looking Mindy aside, she raced past the living room and the kitchen to get upstairs, her breath lowering in shaky miniscule awakenings. With the tips of her fingers, her hands shook as she reached the door of her room. She turned the knob and entered the curious atmosphere and caught her breath in her throat.

Draco had fallen asleep on her bed.

With a sense of reality, the feeling of content dropping in her stomach, at seeing his pale features once more, his head rolling off his shoulder, his legs drawn up to his chest like a small newborn awaiting care, she drew near to him, closing the door behind her. His fingers were clawed at the bedspread, gnawing at the fabric with the tips of his nails. 

"Draco?" she whispered, letting the whisper hover right above his earlobe. She could almost see her breath in the air, fresh, and white.

He gave a small whimper in reply, his eyelashes like the blown snow. She touched his eyes with her fingers, pressing down the creases in wonderous motions. The feeling of his skin felt new again - the same, tingling emotion rose to half her heart and filled her stomach in bewilderment. It was a question, asking itself, unfurling itself in her mind - why, why, why.

How, how, how. How could she give someone up like this? She could never let such a person go. She curled herself against him, feeling the warmth of his stomach, the warmth of his chest, and the coldness in his neck. Their bodies gracefully molded into each other. She knew he was awake, but she would rather he kept his eyes closed. She didn't want to be awake with him, she wanted to be with him, just there, just there, just blunt. She liked his hair tickling her cheekbone, she liked his slender hands transfixing onto her hips and grazing her sides. It was just - almost perfect, that they were asleep together like this, or pretending to sleep. It didn't matter, the world erased around them, and a quill wrote upon them.

It wasn't to hear, to see, or to grasp. It was to feel, and it felt as if they had been perserved together in an embrace for a thousand years, for a million tears.

But when something wet, something liquid dribbled her eyes to her chin, she knew the tears weren't hers this time.

~*~

Love was a dreadful thing. It twisted her insides and fluttered her heart, upturning over into a million eternities and a trillion forevers. She tucked herself into him, refusing to think about which boy she would choose - she merely wanted to be present in his arms. She knew she was a sick, sick person who never thought of the consequences. But for once, she didn't care. She didn't care why Draco was crying, she didn't care who she was going to choose, and for once, she didn't care, refused to care about life.

It gave her a content, controlled feeling that rose in her throat and trickled her blood.

But she knew when she awoke to the reality that suffocated her breath, her blood would be trickling right at the middle of her heart.

~*~

His saliva tasted bitter. His nerves were weakening, his disbelief lengthening. His father couldn't be dead. His father, who had raised him for more than twenty years - couldn't be dead. This couldn't be happening. Life couldn't be like this. Life couldn't be so tormenting, so terrible. There would have to be a miracle, he thought to himself confidently.

There had to be a miracle, he told himself. Life can't be bad for a whole year - there has to be some kind of miracle - some kind...

But it would take a long time before he learned what exactly the miracle was, and if it was already right there, sleeping in his arms.

~*~

She was asleep, her body sprawled across the couch in an uncannily eagle-spread manner. He nudged her legs together and prodded her head delicately against the pillow she was intending to aim at. Harry felt his heart rise, flutter and sputter in it's violet spit. He touched the brown strands with a gentle pushing within his fingers. It created a distance of tingling that traveled beyond his blood and pricked at his very skin. He observed her amber-flushed skin, her exhausted poise, her legs seemed weak, numb from lack of sleep. 

He touched her chin with the tip of her finger. She seemed to tilt her head before a murmur caught in her throat.

Harry sighed, exasperated, his finger still protruding on her chin. There were far many things going on for him to tell her. He had argued with himself for these past three years, telling himself every second she was around, every minute she could hear sound, every single year, he worried himself by glancing at her and having that terrified emotion splattering across his very stomach. He had never told her, he had never told her that he loved to smell the fragrance that windswept around her, he had never told her he loved the way she always laughed or smiled with an uncertain aura, or atmosphere. 

He touched the skin of her neck and felt her lips softly, heat penetrating in his temples. A voice, faint and faraway made him jump slightly, snapping himself back into the vision of the suffocation reality provided. 

"Crush?" Mindy questioned from the doorway, her eyes wide and curious, her head peeking between the door.

Harry shifted uncomfortably to the side so that Hermione's outstretched feet barely brushed against his legs.

"You could say that," he muttered, turning a bright shade of auburn.

"Love, then?" she quipped, prying.

"You could say that," Harry repeated slowly.

Mindy raised a lazy eyebrow as she twirled her hair in between her fingers. "Haven't told her yet?"

"You could say that," Harry echoed mournfully with a grasp of regret at once. 

"Never going to tell her because it might get in the way of a over-seven-year-friendship?" Mindy offered in a calculating voice.

"You could say --" Harry froze, glancing at her unsteadily. "You're_ good_."

"Cookies?" she said, gesturing in the air.

Harry breathed a small yes before he rose from his chair, threw one more regretful, discharging glance at the beautiful woman spread across the couch and followed Mindy to the kitchen.

~*~

Hermione found that a pounding was growing in her ears and sinking into her skull. She was sure the footsteps had grown faint, faltered, and left, but she didn't dare open her eyes. She rolled over to her own side, her fingers entangled together, her shoulders shaking slightly.

It seemed to come together, three thousand blurs uniting to make one single image, make one single sentence that should have changed her life; Harry - Harry, her best friend, loved her in more ways than one.

She should've been screaming inside, she should've been filled with a shy joy, an elapse of something, anything similar to happiness or bliss.

Instead, she was bleeding inside.

The thing she wanted for more than five years was settling into her, and she couldn't, ever, ever have it, grasp it with her hand or even brush past it with the tips of her fingers lingering inside.

Because - the terrible reason uncurled, unfurled, unstoppable.

Because - _there was someone else_.

And nobody,_ nobody _must ever find out who.

~*~

Ginny sat upright in her bed, in a sudden sweat that ran through her skin and trickling across the tips of her toes. She was aware of a loss, a loss of a presence, an emptiness beside her. She turned her head and immediately grew alert of what it was. The fragrance wavered across his side of the bed, but his body was gone, only the wrinkles, crases and sweet smell to leave an imprint on the bedspread.

She could even _breathe_ him. It was disbelief that filled her, mingling with a charge of hope. 

When she breathed, she breathed him, and when she suffocated, she choked on _his_ emotion, along with hers. She felt an ache in her abdomen as she pressed her feet to the carpet, letting her toes sink into the soft material. It was like feeling it for the first time. She had slept, and now she was awakening into a familiar but nevertheless new scent. 

It was then that she realized her shoes had been slipped off, and her clothes had been changed from their usually disoriented status to a long t-shirt that went below her knees and beneath that, a pair of faded jeans that she had gotten passed down from Bill when she was fifteen. Ginny felt an upturn of her lips, the gentle caress grazing her throat.

"Draco?" she questioned.

"Here," said a small voice faintly from faraway.

Ginny turned her body swiftly and found herself staring into his back as he lay across Hermione's bed, his eyes tightly closed.

"Did you change my clothes?" she asked teasingly.

"No," he answered. "I asked Potter to do it while I went far, far away from the - undressing. However, there was a particularly amusing moment when he was raising your shirt above your head and I accidentally came in too soon."

"Why?" Ginny asked in bewilderment, half-nervous, half-flustered. "Why did you have to ask Harry to do it?"

"I am lazy," he responded vaguely, his eyes fluttering open slightly as he turned his head and grinned at her weakly.

"Your eyes are red," Ginny remarked in a concerned tone. "Do you want me to heal it? Or something?"

"No, no," Draco told her, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "I'll be fine. I should be going back - back - to..." the words trailed off in a whisper gesturing itself invisibly above.

"Where?" Ginny asked, but the question faltered, thrown away in a gust of air. He appeared to be asleep once more, or at least, pretending.

Ginny frowned, her bottom lip trembling, a headache penetrating at the side of her forehead. Too many things were going on, too many things she could grasp, and hold onto firmly with her hands, because they brushed past the tips of her fingers. She walked in a slow pace to the window and leaned against it, watching the snow melt, but ripples of rain that looked like broken shadows filling it's place.

~*~

Draco didn't have a place to go.

It was clear, blunt, echoed in his eardrums several times.

He tried hard not to distinguish it, he tried hard to force himself not to comprehend it. 

He had told both his 'mothers' to leave. His father was gone.

Well, at least you have another mother to take his place, his mind reminded him sardonically.

Draco was going - well, insane. Laughter burst out of his lips, escaping in a faltered heartbeat, wavering across the room. He laughed as he closed his eyes, until his throat was dry and blood was pounding in his ears. He laughed until he felt sure the world was cracking into the atmosphere and until the end of time, and the stopping of seconds.

The last laugh surrendered to the heavens, floating away before his mouth closed, all tears and laughter forsaken as he slept.

~*~

He knew he was not sane.

It was like learning or knowing that you needed water to survive, or that air was what you breathed to live, or that you blinked - you blinked every single second. Sanity was not thrown upon him. It was not there to live by, to suffice by.

Sanity was only a thing others had, and he didn't.

His wand kept him company. He wavered it across his chest several times, priding himself. He had no intention to die. No intention at all. But he couldn't stand it in this hole he called the Manor, he couldn't stand having his wife sit across from him, when he was thinking about someone else, when he was thinking - when he was loving, yearning for that person. He found himself picturing himself caressing her, pulling her close.

His fingers wrung, and so did his black, crippled, ashen heart.

He needed to runaway.

But then -- what if they came looking for him? What if _she_ ran after him?

He knew he had to do the only thing to make nobody look for him, ever.

It was a plan. He would not be distraught. He told his wife he would be going on a little business trip. 

And he never came back.

Lucius Malfoy died a million times, according to the murmurs of nearby 'witnesses' and secret glances between relatives, who hung their head in shame, shook their head in mock disappointment, or gave a knowing smile. 

And yet, here he was, present and still, alive and well, raising his head and looking at the world above.

~*~

Ginny remembered her first time as clearly as the snow, almost identical, but not quite yet, in their fluttering flakes down to the earth in a heavenly manner. It was Autumn, the leaves splattered across the grounds beside the Burrow, the birds chirping merrily, and the sunlight eclipsed, hidden by the darkness of the night. She recalled her parents had gone to see Bill, who had a little 'accident' at that time period. She remembered Ron accompanying them, and Fred and George had taken this as a sign to go to Ron's room, stroll around innocently, and rush through his belongings. 

Devon had come over, of course. She had brushed her feet across the stairs, eighteen, refreshed, and invitingly. She found herself counting exactly how many footsteps it took to the door. Every single second she counted, a flashing heat, burning in her skull, and the yearning longing in her chest. She needed to keep that emotion inside, tucked into a small box at the corner of her heart, to wash through later, to read the files.

Unfortunately, her feelings were difficult to analyze. The light-headed dizziness, disbelief and glee that she had found someone - someone who loved her, someone who she could tease, someone, even if he was a muggle, she remembered thinking, even if he was one, it wouldn't matter one single bit to her. After all, it wasn't as if her parents, embellishing her father, would have any problem with it. It was a dazed dream in which she walked through an illusion as she turned the knob and stepped aside.

Devon entered just like a dream. His legs were long and like steel, hard to break, harder to observe with her eyes. He was wearing the same thing he had on yesterday, which gave her a strangely endearing flutter of her heart. Ginny wasn't shallow - but he had never looked so gorgeous, and she felt that locking, that feeling grow hollow and race in her chest. It was as if she was gulping down ice that broke and froze her insides. The fact that she knew - knew in her heart, that this had to be unreal.

He knew, he knew by her features exactly why she was gazing at him. She remembered shivering uncontrollably at the chilling wind that pushed past them through the open, exposed door. He snapped the door shut and smiled at her timidly, twirling a strand of her red hair in his fingers. She sustained the smell, the fragrance of him, she sustained the feeling of him against her chest. 

Her heartbeat faltered into glass that splashed over her abdomen.

She couldn't breathe as they walked upstairs. 

She remembered it took thirty steps to the door.

And she remembered, she remembered, she would love him that exact amount - thirty more years.

~*~

She should've known. Ginny should've known Hermione still kept one after all these years. Hermione was always organized, prepared for anything, prepared for destruction. The matter of it was, Ginny felt a timid rising thump bleeding in her chest as the the miniscule hour glass dangled across her sweater.

She was going to do something she wanted to do for years. She was going to do something that would permanently change history, that would relive the pain and fade it away, wash it away like the water of tears.

She turned it over. She turned it over how many times she could not count, but the time was fading away around her, caressing her whole body in flashing, blinding drips of colors.

The world was creasing, and it's lines were becoming broken once more.

She was going back in time.

~*~


End file.
